


Prythian Nights

by K_Royale



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Friendship, Mental Health Issues, Redemption, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:40:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 56,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26472022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Royale/pseuds/K_Royale
Summary: The most hated male in Prythian, a traitor, the High Lord of nothing—I bargained with him and he agreed. A bargain that may not be achieved. I saw the darkness in him, the seemingly endless pit he’s hurled himself into. I’ve seen others emerge from dark places, but I’ve never encountered someone so lost. It gave me chills to think of the despair looming just on the other side of the bond between us.
Relationships: Tamlin (ACoTaR)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 135
Kudos: 129
Collections: Fanfics de ACOTAR





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Welcome to the Court of Dreams, Meiri.”

Very rarely did something unusual happen in the Night Court. Rhysand had gained the respect and fear of the Court of Nightmares—it took at least two decades, but his cruel mask seemed to be permanently engraved in their sick heads. Velaris was thriving with trade and artists, its people content and their children laughing as they played on the streets.

Usually, the bane of Rhysand’s existence stemmed from the Illyrian war camps. Since his ascension to High Lord, one of his first mandates was to ban the clipping of females after having their first blood. He began enforcing it in honor of his late mother, for what almost occurred to her had it not been for the mating bond to his father. Naturally, the Illyrians were not too happy with Rhysand’s push for more female rights.

Cassian and Azriel did their best to enforce the new laws, but they were scorned and hated in Illyria as well. They were bastards, and the High Lord was a halfbreed. However, as much as they were hated, they were also feared. Rhysand was a force to be reckoned with, and Cassian and Azriel each wore seven Siphons. They complied with the law—grumbling, but they’d comply. Those that didn’t were reprimanded by Azriel. What he did, even Rhysand didn’t know, but those Illyrians came back pale, bug-eyed, and jumpy. Rhysand surely had no qualms about his methods.

Said shadowsinger was away at the Illyrian camps all morning, having received some whispers of trouble. He didn’t specify what it was exactly, but he assured Rhysand he’d have a full report by lunchtime. And as promised, Azriel landed on one of the many balconies lining the House of Wind just as food was winnowed into the dining room.

Amren and Mor were having a rather heated discussion about the outrageous price of jewels nowadays when Azriel walked inside. His hazel eyes flashed onto Mor, almost in silent greeting even though she didn’t spare him a glance, but he seemed content just to see her. He then turned to look at Rhysand who was loading up his plate. Cassian was by his side already wolfing down an entire rotisserie chicken.

“Can the report wait until after lunch?” Rhysand asked. “Or is it dire enough to ruin my appetite?” 

“It’s not exactly dire.” Azriel’s tone drew the attention of Mor and Amren; they stopped talking, their attention now on him. Even Cassian stopped eating. The shadowsinger straightened and tucked in his wings—his telltale sign of the discomfort it brought him to have a room’s undivided attention. “It’s simply odd.”

Rhysand gestured at the empty chair across from him. “Well, if it’s not dire, have a seat, have some lunch, and explain what’s odd.”

When Azriel was situated and served himself some food, he began, “Ironcrest has been restless lately—the males are becoming increasingly frustrated due to their inability to find suitable wives.”

“Typical,” Amren snorted. “Males always thinking with that worm between their legs.”

“They’re pissed about the new law?” Rhysand asked. He’d recently imposed a new law against arranged marriage, but that hasn’t been fully enforced yet. Why would they be complaining about it? Ironcrest was the one camp that usually needed Azriel’s methods of persuasion to get them to follow the rules.

“No.” Azriel took a sip of wine. “They can’t find wives because they aren’t bleeding.”

“Like when you stab them?” Cassian said through a mouthful of green beans. “Let me fight them in the ring; I’ll get those bastards bleeding.”

“The females, you idiot,” Mor scoffed. “Do I have to explain what a female’s cycle is like?”

“No thank you! I have enough of yours twice a year.”

Rhysand set his fork down, narrowing his eyes in thought. Ironcrest was Windhaven’s rival camp—it was large, well-known, and bred very skilled warriors. But like many camps, their female population was thin and many were forced to marry upon their first blood to speed along the breeding process. Ironically enough, Illyrian warlords have begun to prioritize the birth of females simply because they needed more in order to produce boys. 

“None of the females are bleeding?” Rhysand asked, earning a shake of Azriel’s head. “How many are there in the camp and how old are they?”

“Sixteen females between the ages of fourteen and twenty-two.”

Cassian whisted. “No wonder they’re pissed—that’s marrying age for Illyrian females.”

“Savages,” Mor muttered behind her glass of wine.

Rhysand tapped his fingers against the table. He’d be lying if this didn’t intrigue him. His mother had stalled her body’s natural function by taking dangerous teas and starving herself—was this some sort of pact between the unmarried females? “As much as I agree with you, cousin, we can’t overlook this. Illyrians needs to stick their worms into something, or else they’ll start wars, and we can’t have that.”

“There’s plenty of—” Amren began, but Rhysand stopped her with a pointed look. His appetite was already ruined; he didn’t need Amren adding nausea to the mix. 

“Finish lunch,” Rhysand looked between Cassian and Azriel. “We’re getting to the bottom of this today.”

* * *

Despite it being the middle of spring, Ironcrest was bitter cold and gloomy. The mud squelched underneath their boots as they landed in the heart of the camp, the shadows of their wings covering the expanse of the area. Some of the older females looked up from their fires, the light bouncing off their lovely, yet exhausted features. The scars on their wings, done to them before Rhysand ascended his throne, stood out as a sick reminder of the cruel traditions of Illyria. The traditions Rhysand wanted desperately to get rid of.

At their arrival, the camp lord approached them. He bowed curtly at Rhysand and disregarded Cassian and Azriel’s presence entirely. “A pleasant surprise, High Lord.”

“It has come to my attention that you are having a problem with your females,” Rhysand began, straight to the point. “Before things get rowdy with the warriors, I’d like to settle this.”

The camp lord’s eyes seemed to set themselves ablaze at the topic; he was most likely sick and tired of this issue and wanted nothing more than to vent about it. “The females aren’t bleeding! The healers don’t know what the hell is going on, and neither do the married females! How am I supposed to marry them off?”

“Not against their wills, I hope?” Rhysand warned gently.

“Of course, High Lord,” he said, his tone softening considerably. “And they will not be clipped either.”

Rhysand tried not to roll his eyes at the utter lies this male had the balls to say to his face. Nevertheless, he asked, “Are you sure the females haven’t bled? Perhaps you’ve just failed to notice.”

“You can smell it on them,” he said in a way that disgusted Rhysand. Cassian and Azriel also shifted in discomfort. “I had a whelp claim to have smelled a female’s blood but then turn around and say he didn’t remember ever saying such a thing. I had him whipped.”

“He just _forgot_?”

“That’s what he said.”

“Bring him to me.”

“He’s on the whipping post,” the camp lord pointed in the direction. “Ask him what you please if you can wake him up.”

Indeed, the whelp tied to the whipping post was asleep and shivering from the cold. He was shirtless, bare to the extreme temperature, and the whip marks on his back had just begun to clot. Despite the savagery of the punishment for lying, the whippings clearly avoided his wings. Illyrians would never harm another’s wings—that was a crime punishable by death.

Hands in his pockets, Rhysand entered the male’s mind, seeing the events that led up to his sudden amnesia. Cassian and Azriel watched calmly, knowing their High Lord was flipping through the memories like a picture book. He was done in mere seconds and when he turned to his brothers, he had a broad smirk on his face.

“There’s a daemati in this camp,” he said and looked at Azriel. “Find her.”

* * *

Rhysand was sitting in an unoccupied tent with Cassian when Azriel returned. He’d been gone about an hour and a half, hunting down the daemati Rhysand knew scrambled that male’s mind. Rhysand had to rearrange the memories to decipher them and he saw the female he’d claimed had bled, but Rhysand knew she wasn’t the daemati. She looked no older than sixteen, and she looked absolutely spooked. Someone with the ability to barge into someone’s head wouldn’t have that look of horror—they’d simply do away with the discovery they’d made on the spot.

His suspicions proved correct when Azriel walked into the tent with a young female. She stood to Azriel’s shoulder, her body thin and petite, her posture elegant and proud. She wore a dull brown dress and simple cooking apron around her waist, her midnight black hair pulled back into a neat ponytail that made her hazel eyes look stunning against her golden skin. Her wings were tucked in, but Rhysand was relieved to see they were unscarred. 

“High Lord.” The female bowed her head, her tone soft and genuine. “You wished to see me?”

Rhysand did not reply verbally but simply speared directly into her mind. He didn’t do so hard enough to scare her, nor did he break down her very spotty walls. He simply stood at the gateway of her mind and knocked. She let him in.

_What’s your name?_

_It’s Meiri, my lord._

_It’s very clever what you’re doing, Meiri, but you can’t continue to erase everyone’s memories forever. You all will have to marry and get on with your lives eventually._

_They have no intention of following your laws, my lord. They have continued to clip the females, and they’ve already arranged a few marriages, including my own. It’s been postponed for obvious reasons._

_Yes, even though you’re twenty-two and you bled at eighteen._

Rhysand felt her surprise curl around him and he simply showed her he’d looked into the personal area of her mind, picking out the memories like one would pick flowers in a garden. _Building mental shields are just as important as the offensive aspect—see how easily someone can pick apart your deepest and darkest secrets? Don’t be alarmed, I didn’t look at them. I’m simply proving a point. But for someone who has no training whatsoever, you’ve done a decent job of rearranging memories—sloppy, but decent. I commend you._

Meiri gave him a lopsided grin. _Thank you, my lord._

Rhysand withdrew out of her mind. “Why are you doing this?”

“Some of the girls are too young and innocent,” she said, folding her hands in front of her. “And the males are desperate.”

“She’s not lying there,” Cassian pointed out. 

“I know I can’t continue doing this forever, but I know the younger girls appreciate their freedom, and I hate the thought of being forced to do the bidding of males simply because it’s tradition,” she said bitterly. “That male on the whipping post nearly got away from me, and I was too late in erasing his memories before he reported to the camp lord.”

“So you feel bad that he got whipped even though you’re protecting the females from him?”

Rhysand left his walls open for her purposefully, and she snuck right through to say, _The poor thing can’t help himself. It’s rather pathetic, my lord._

She was so condescending, it made him burst into laughter. When he settled, Rhysand stood from his chair and approached her. She looked up at him, something Illyrian females are conditioned not to do. He knew she would’ve lowered her gaze if he were any other male, but she was comfortable in his presence. He was glad for it.

“I will offer you a bargain, Meiri,” he said. “Leave this camp and be free with us, in my court,” he gestured at Azriel and Cassian. “You have a rare gift, and you have talent for it. I will train you and give you the freedom you crave.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, unless you consider reporting to Azriel a downside,” Rhysand nodded towards Azriel, who had effectively melted into the shadows of the tent. Only his bright blue Siphons gave any indication he was still present. “I think you’d make a great spy and a formidable warrior.”

“But I’m a female,” she said quizzically. “Females aren’t warriors.”

“We can make you one, if you want to be one,” he said. “A spy and a warrior, free to love, to fly, to travel and to have your dreams answered.”

Her hazel eyes flashed at the prospect and it made Rhysand smile softly. So much of his mother in those eyes, so much of his sister. The yearning for open skies and opportunity. The fierceness to protect and to love. The hope to have dreams and wish they be answered.

“But my girls,” she said, looking over her shoulder as if the camp’s females all stood behind her. “I’d be leaving them.”

“They’ll be in good hands,” Rhysand nodded at Cassian, who bowed his head in acknowledgement. “I’ll have Cassian personally see that they are not forced into marriage or clipped.”

“I’ve also been trying to get the camp lords to train females in basic self-defense,” Cassian added a bit sheepishly. It was a fool’s dream, but a dream nonetheless. “I’ll make it happen.”

“Well?” Rhysand asked. “Do we have a deal?”

She didn’t hesitate. “It’s a deal.”

At her words, a royal purple band formed around her left forearm, sealing the pact. Rhysand smiled. “Welcome to the Court of Dreams, Meiri.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your powers allow you to tinker with the mind as we tinker with machinery, but unlike clockwork, the mind is a living thing and cannot simply be set with a spring and forgotten.

Amarantha’s reign of terror lasted fifty years. Rhysand sent the last pulse of his power to warn everyone of what occurred, of what the wicked queen was capable of, of what his final orders were—protect Velaris at all costs. 

We protected the city with our lives for the fifty years he and the rest of Prythian was trapped Under the Mountain. The fate of the land rested on the shoulders of the Spring Court’s High Lord and if he managed to seduce a human that harbored hate in her heart for the Fae.

The curse was utterly stupid in my opinion. But then again, a female scorned is a dangerous female. Amarantha wanted Prythian to suffer, she wanted its people to live in constant fear, to strip everyone of their power.

I cringed at the thought.  _ If all goes to hell _ , Rhysand had told them through their minds,  _ and Amarantha takes over, you all live in Velaris, protect it, and forget about Prythian and me. _

The first few weeks following Rhysand’s message was detrimental to the entire Inner Circle. I was on assignment in the Continent when I received his message and hurried to Velaris afterwards. Everyone was in the House of Wind, Amren and Azriel simmering, Mor pacing the room, and Cassian tearing apart a couch he promised he’d replace later. 

I helped them through the difficult time. I’d rearrange their minds to handle this new shift in power, this devastating news. A temporary fix, but they’re all strong, all proud and loyal and willing to obey the last command of their High Lord. 

Rhysand’s absence was hard on everyone. It was hard on me; I learned everything from him and still had much to learn. He taught me how to perfect my daemati powers, taught me how to build impenetrable mental shields, and taught me how to sneak past them undetected. It was Rhysand who spoke to High Lord Thesan long ago and asked if I could stay in the Dawn Court for a few years and learn healing. I learned to heal body and mind, learned that the clever tinkerings of the Dawn Court were inspired by the complex machinery of the mind. High Lord Thesan was a brilliant mentor.

_ The mind is a powerful thing, capable of altering how you interpret things, capable of giving you strength you never had, capable of handling many things at once, capable of making you forget entirely and remember vividly. Your powers allow you to tinker with the mind as we tinker with machinery, but unlike clockwork, the mind is a living thing and cannot simply be set with a spring and forgotten. If you wish to heal the scars of those who return from battle or those who have seen horrors, they must learn to tinker with their own minds the same way you do. _

Cassian always teased me, insisting I had a crush on High Lord Thesan. It wasn’t exactly a lie—the High Lord was incredibly attractive, soft-spoken, and kind. When he was also trapped Under the Mountain, I burst into tears. I loved to visit his court, to fly with the Peregryns and savor the warm temperatures of his court in the spring and summertime. Although the Night Court experienced seasonal changes, I always found it chilly.

Then Amarantha was defeated by the human named Feyre—they began calling her Feyre Cursebreaker. Rhysand returned home and we were thrilled to see him again. We teased him, telling him he looked disgustingly pale and bony. Cassian offered to beat him up in the sparring ring to test if his muscle memory was still intact after fifty years. Amren gave him an uncharacteristic hug around his midsection in greeting.

“I don’t see how this is going to help, Meiri.”

He was skeptical, naturally. He didn’t like others getting into his head, especially when it made him vulnerable. Cassian of all people convinced him to sit down with me, to give my therapy sessions a shot because they helped him get through the news of Rhysand’s entrapment Under the Mountain.

“I told you this is an ongoing process—you can’t expect to cast away your darkness with one burst of light.”

“You sound like Thesan.”

“Jealous?”

Rhysand chuckled and leaned forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. His dark hair fanned over his eyes, obscuring them from my view as I felt him lower his shields just enough for me to slip by. He didn’t show me everything, of course, but he showed me enough. What he endured, what Amarantha made him do, what he had to do in secret, the many times he was close to losing her favor, shattering innocent minds, bringing that human girl to Amarantha and telling her it was Feyre and having her tortured brutally.

Guilt and shame. Despite having done everything for his people, he still felt guilty for the innocent lives he shattered and still felt shame for having resorted to being a whore for Amarantha. 

_ You have to accept your decisions and forgive yourself, Rhys. _

_ I can’t. _

_ Yes, you can. It won’t be today, and it probably won’t be in a hundred years, but you will.  _

Rhysand changed the subject.  _ Can you see what’s driving me crazy? _

I sorted through his mind, flipping through it and stopping abruptly when I felt it crack through me like a whip. 

The sight of Feyre Cursebreaker in her new Fae body, having been Made by all the High Lords in return for her sacrifice. Her lovely features, her grey-blue eyes, her arm tattooed all the way down to her fingernails. The power that thrummed from her. 

_ She’s your mate. _

Rhysand chuckled darkly with no hint of humor in it.  _ And she’s in love with Tamlin.  _

I pulled out of his mind and watched him slump back on the couch. He asked softly, “What do you suggest I do?”

“You’ve already made your decision,” I pointed out. “You’re going to let her be happy and marry the High Lord of Spring—you’ve already endured so much, so what’s losing your mate?”

“Say it louder, why don’t you?”

“Everyone is going to smell it on you the moment you call in the bargain. It’ll hardly be a secret the moment you both walk in here.”

Rhysand shrugged, his violet eyes staring at the ceiling lazily. “Do you think I’ll ever be happy?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“What about you?” he began, changing the subject again. “Have you had any lovers? Anyone proposed marriage yet?”

I flared my wings in silent warning, to which he only laughed. “I’ve had lovers, and no one has asked for my hand in marriage.”

“Do you want them to?”

“Cassian looked about ready to do so when I managed to sneak a right hook on his jaw a few weeks ago,” I recalled in amusement. Only Cassian can receive a knockout blow to the face, laugh, and think of marrying the person that made him spit blood. “But no. I don’t think I’m ready for marriage, especially when the lot of you have such catastrophic love lives.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Rhysand slapped his knees and stood from the couch. “Want to go for a fly over Velaris?”

I smirked and stretched my wings out as I stood from my chair. “Last one to the Rainbow pays for drinks tonight.”

If the events of Under the Mountain were devastating, the war with Hybern was disastrous. What Rhysand and Feyre endured, both apart and together, was not something I’d seen anyone endure in hundreds of years. Finally accepting their mating bond gave them momentary happiness, but Hybern’s lurking shadow made Prythian’s freedom tentative. And with High Lord Tamlin’s betrayal, the wound cut deep. Both for the other courts, and for Feyre, who once loved him and endured so much of his abuse.

When the war finally ended and we were victorious, I spent much of my time healing wounds of the flesh and helping warriors through the horrors, helping their families through their losses. The months following the final battle were tense at best, as the courts finally returned to their lands and began rebuilding. Alliances were fragile and I could feel it was a bomb waiting to detonate at the sight of a single spark. 

Rhysand suggested a yearly meeting between all the High Lords, just to maintain relations stable and talk through their differences, to give everyone a chance to voice their opinions. The solar courts agreed, Winter and Summer agreed, Autumn and Spring grumbled their agreement. The first meeting would be after the Summer Solstice and would be hosted by the Dawn Court once again. The High Lords and Feyre agreed that the location of the meetings will alternate every year at random between the courts.

* * *

Following the Winter Solstice, Azriel sat down with his network of spies and briefed them on the prospects for the new year. I was his second in the network, having earned my place just before Amarantha’s invasion. We stood over a map of Prythian in the House of Wind, Azriel pointing a scarred finger towards the southern borders of the Summer Court.

“Tarquin has sent soldiers to guard north of the Spring Court,” he said. “Tamlin has no intention of enforcing his borders, and we have yet to determine if the Queens are a threat to us.”

“Who’s overseeing the southern border of Spring?”

“Tamlin made it clear to Rhysand that he will have no one marching over his lands.”

The High Lord of the Spring Court was a touchy subject here. Rhysand couldn’t stand the mention of his name—for what Tamlin did to his mother and sister, for what he did to Feyre, for his betrayal during the war. Feyre was equally disgusted by him and even though she wished him happiness, I wasn’t too sure she truly meant it. According to our spy network and from Rhysand’s reports, Tamlin was prowling around his lands, hunting deer and leaving them to rot in the fields, destroying his furniture and estate, and neglecting his gardens and letting them dry up. His explosive anger was always a problem, Rhysand had said, and now it was simply exploding with nothing to reel it in.

No one has heard from the Spring Court since the end of the war, and Rhysand last saw Tamlin just after the Winter Solstice. He’d killed a deer and was letting it rot, Rhysand had said. Azriel found it meaningless to station spies in the Spring Court; Tamlin seemed to be doing nothing but destroying himself and his home.

If he kept that up, there would be nothing left to hunt in the Spring Court.

“I want you to inspect the southern borders and report back on your findings,” Azriel said. “Humans might be crossing over, or perhaps the Queens’ spies. We can’t have anyone know the Spring Court is not enforcing the border.”

“Yes, sir,” I bowed my head and winnowed home to prepare for my first assignment of the year.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bones. I could count his ribs. I could feel the joints of his shoulder. The bones making up his upper arm, his elbow. Almost no muscle. Just fur and skin and bones. He was trembling from starvation.

It was eerie how the temperature changed so drastically on the border. I soared along the human lands and the air was frigid and razor sharp with the new year’s winter. When I banked just a bit to the left, the warm breeze of spring filled my wings and frizzed my hair with humidity. Despite the destruction of the wall, the magic that separated the humans lands and the faerie lands was still present.

My Illyrian leathers did a good job of regulating the changes in temperature and when the harsh winter drafts hit too hard, I would tap the bright yellow Siphon on my wrist and create a barrier to protect me. 

Thankfully, my scouting was fruitless. There were no signs of humans crossing the borders, which crossed off the possibility of spies sent by the Queens. The border seemed to hold strong despite no one guarding it. I landed on Spring Court territory and walked along the border, noting animal tracks headed to and from the human lands. When I pulled a fistful of grass from the ground, the roots were rotted and thin. Berries were small and dehydrated and fruits were decomposing in the earth. Those that were still attached to tree branches were no bigger than seedlings. The land was still bright green, but I knew it was only a matter of time before it turned brown and withered. I felt the unstable magic all around me.

The silence in these woods was uncomfortable at best. No birds chirped, no insects hummed, no branches snapped. Only the sound of distant running water and an occasional gust of warm air that rustled the tree leaves. I cringed when I would see dozens of the leaves fall from their branches. It didn’t smell like spring here; it didn’t smell sweet and lively. It smelled like the earth was dying.

A sudden roar erupted in the distance. No birds flew into the skies, telling me there were no birds left in the Spring Court to inhabit the trees. The guttural sound traveled in from the north-east, followed by the howls of wolves. A shiver ran all throughout my body at the unnerving sounds breaking the dead silence. 

With a powerful thrust of my wings, a propelled myself over the tall canopies of the woods and speared through the air. I followed the barking of the wolves, the pounding of paws against the earth. When I flew over an opening in the trees, a flash of dark fur rushed by, followed by a pack of grey wolves. 

I swerved to follow them into a clearing, landing on a thick branch and tucking my wings in close. Surrounded by six growling and salivating wolves was an enormous beast, possibly the size of a horse, with thick brown fur, elk antlers, and a pointed snout similar to the wolves in front of it. In its massive jaws was a rabbit, limp and dripping with blood. I’d seen this beast before, on the battlefield with Hybern last year. Those vivid green eyes were as distinctive as they were hated.

It was the High Lord of the Spring Court.

The leader of the wolf pack howled and they all lunged at Tamlin. Being as massive as he was, he pivoted and the wolves yelped from the blow. However, it was still six against one, and one by one, the wolves began snapping their jaws and finding flesh. Blood began staining the grass, but Tamlin would not stop fighting, his anger a maelstrom in his bright green eyes and his growl menacing. He would not let go of the rabbit the wolves were clearly after.

But after so many lunges, so many bites and bleeding wounds, Tamlin’s will to fight was dwindling. His growls were dying in strength and his massive paws were faltering beneath him. I watched intently, my muscles tense with anticipation.

If I intervene, I would compromise myself. Tamlin made it clear he wanted no one on his lands, and the feud between him and my High Lord was notorious. One look at me and Tamlin would know I hailed from the Night Court, a spy sent by the male he despised most.

Tamlin finally spit the rabbit out, finally giving up and letting the wolves have what they wanted. To my dismay, the wolves ignored the rabbit. This enormous beast had much more meat to him than that tiny rabbit. Those wolves were jumping on Tamlin’s back fully intent on killing him.

The smell of blood was sickening me, and my fingers trembled over the handle of the Illyrian dagger on my belt. Do I intervene? Do I leave him to die? He’s a High Lord; he can’t die this easily! Can he?

I flared my wings and dove into the clearing, sweeping over the scuffle. My long shadow immediately drew the wolves’ attention and the pack leader howled as I landed. They didn’t have time to move; with one tap of my Siphon, a barrier pulsed and sent one of the wolves flying into a tree trunk. Then another. By the third wolf that I tossed like a ragdoll, the pack seemed to understand there was no winning this fight. The leader howled and the pack following him into the woods, disappearing into the brush.

The great beast hadn’t moved from where the wolves jumped him. It was panting heavily, blood oozing from its enormous fangs and dripping onto the grass. His fur was matted and bright red with fresh wounds and bites. Those bright green eyes were scanning me, but he didn’t move. He  _ couldn’t _ move. He was trembling as if it was the dead of winter, panting and growling weakly. He slumped on the grass like a fallen tree, his back rising and falling quickly. 

I slowly approached him, keeping my wings tucked in tightly as a precaution. It didn’t seem like he had any energy left in him to attack; his eyes merely watched closely but he continued to tremble. When I knelt down, he erupted with a growl.

“Hey!” I let out without a thought. My sudden shout made him jump, and his eyes widened in shock. He continued to tremble but he made no more sounds as I tapped the Siphon on my wrist and began patching up all his visible wounds. He’d lost a good amount of blood, but he still continued to tremble. I dared to reach out to him, pausing tentatively just over his head. He held my glance heatedly, but then closed his eyes. A silent granting of permission.

I touched his matted fur, feeling the skin underneath tremble like an earthquake. He didn’t feel warm, so it wasn’t fever. It was too early to have his wounds fester anyway. But when I ran my hand over his back, I felt it.

Bones. I could count his ribs. I could feel the joints of his shoulder. The bones making up his upper arm, his elbow. Almost no muscle. Just fur and skin and bones. He was trembling from starvation.

I whirled around and snatched the dead rabbit on the bloody grass, drew my dagger and skinned it neatly. I filleted a chunk of meat and with a tap of my Siphon, the burst of searing magic cooked the tender meat quickly. The moment the steam caught in the wind, I heard the beast sniffing. My gut wrenched at seeing saliva mixed with blood ooze from his fangs. But he still didn’t move. He only trembled. 

I pressed the chunk to his nose and he took it into his mouth. He barely chewed and simply swallowed it. I cut out and cooked as much meat as that rabbit could offer me, and he ate every piece I pressed to his snout. He was still trembling when I smoothed down the fur near his ear.

“Can you get out of this form?” I asked him. He needed to have his wounds cleaned and bandaged, but the supplies I carried on me were not enough for a horse-sized bear with antlers. I reached into my pack and pulled out a waterskin. I tipped it over his fangs and he lapped at the steady stream. As he drank, the fur surrounding his eyes began to recede, the face of the beast taking a sharper, paler form. The brown fur lightened, the massive body shrinking into an even thinner form clad in a too-big and dirty shirt, brown pants torn at the seams, and bare feet. 

He looked dreadful. His hair was tangled, dull, and split at the ends. He looked like he hadn’t bathed in ages and certainly smelled like it. I recalled this High Lord being broad-shouldered and heavily muscled with hair like smooth gold, tanned skin, and dressed impeccably in green. He was now a moving skin of bones with sunken eyes and cheeks, protruding shoulders and collarbones, and frail like a newborn calf.

His head slumped back on the grass, his body trembling furiously. I touched his cheek, wincing at how cold it was and how prominent his jawline was against my fingers. If his injuries weren’t patched up soon, he’ll come down with a fever. 

“I’m going to winnow us to your estate,” I told him as I capped the waterskin. Just as I was about to sheath my dagger, I heard him grunt. As if he was trying to will his throat to make sound, to will his mouth to form words.

“No.” His voice was raspy, barely a whisper. Starved  _ and _ dehydrated.

I looked around the clearing. Those wolves surely won’t be coming back and the skies looked clear with no hint of bad weather coming. I could hear a gurgling creek nearby, and there had to be some animals burrowed around to hunt and snare. It wasn’t an overall bad location.

“I’m going to get more water,” I told him. He blinked in understanding but said nothing. I felt the need to add, “I’ll be back. I promise.”

* * *

I winnowed around the area, refilling my waterskin, gathering any edible plants and the ripest fruit and berries I could find. I set two snares for any rabbits that might be lingering around and gathered some branches and leaves. When I returned to the clearing, Tamlin was exactly where I left him. He didn’t move an inch.

I arranged the branches and leaves neatly before igniting them with a blast from my Siphon. Hopefully some warmth will do him well. I then opened my pack of supplies and pulled out bandages and ointments. Tamlin was still as I cleaned his wounds and bandaged them. They already clotted and were starting to heal nicely. The crackling of the fire provided a nice ambient sound, otherwise I feared the silence would be incredibly awkward. When I finished bandaging him, I gave him the waterskin and he drank from it slowly. 

“You’re Illyrian,” he said softly. He was sitting up now, but was hunched over. As if he had no will to hold himself up properly. When I nodded, he said, “Rhysand sent you to spy on me?”

“I can’t say.” My missions are secret, and I’ve blatantly ignored the first and most important rule Azriel taught me:  _ do not compromise yourself _ . Thankfully, Tamlin didn’t seem to care about my vagueness. His eyes shifted, looking distant as he looked into the small fire I made. I sighed to draw his attention, “Your land is dying.”

“I know.” There was nothing in his tone. 

“The animals are starting to cross to the human lands—they’ll be back once they realize it's winter over there, but they’ll start migrating north to Autumn and Summer.”

“I know.”

“What are you going to do?”

Tamlin shrugged his shoulders. I clenched my jaw in annoyance. “If you keep killing the deer and leaving them out to rot, you and the wolves won’t have anything to eat.”

He nodded, though my words seemed to just fly by him like a breeze. He was in a daze, probably from the food in his stomach. His body was likely having a shock. I returned to kindling the fire when he spoke, “The magic in me goes into self-preservation; I transform against my will and go hunting. By the time I kill the deer and return to my senses, I...”

His words died away as his head dipped down. I finished for him, “You don’t have the energy to do the rest.”

I shouldn’t feel bad for him. He betrayed Prythian by joining up with Hybern, locked my High Lady away and turned his back on her, embarrassed her during that High Lords’ meeting, kicked Lucien Vanserra out of his court, exiling him. No one wanted anything to do with him; High Lord Tarquin was wary and only sent his soldiers to the border for his own security, High Lord Beron thought Tamlin weak and pathetic, and High Lord Kallias was too far from his borders to care. The solar courts sided with Rhysand on the matter, but like Kallias, they were too far from Spring to care too much. Everyone had their own rebuilding to do.

“You are the High Lord of the Spring Court and your land is dying and empty,” I said. “You should care.”

He shrugged, and I wanted to wring his neck. The indifference was infuriating. On a whim, I speared into his mind to see if this was all an act. To my surprise, I ran straight into a thick wall of thorns. They were tangled and black as night, sharp and ready to draw blood if I got too close. Even though I was just on the border of his mind, I could feel the tendrils of his despair feeding through the opening of the thorns like steam. It was suffocating, as if a hand was squeezing my neck tighter and tighter until I could no longer breathe and my eyes began to water. My ears popped and my stomach turned in all directions as darkness began to surround me. 

I quickly pulled myself out, doubling over on the grass and dry heaving, desperate for air as my heart hammered against my chest. Through a coughing fit, I looked up at him to see him staring blankly at the fire. He didn’t even notice I walked into his mind, didn’t notice I had to practically hurl myself out and was close to depositing my breakfast over the fire. 

He wasn’t broken. He was  _ shattered _ .


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is a bargain. Are you agreeing to it?”

One of my snares caught a rabbit and I quickly skinned and cooked it. I shared the meat with Tamlin and watched him eat the last of the dried fruit I had on me. He didn’t speak again after the last time and would simply doze off, staring at the fire for long periods of time. When the sun began to set over the horizon, I put out the fire and extended my hand to him. He simply looked at it as if it was some strange creature.

“I’m winnowing us to your estate,” I said. This time, he didn’t object. He took my hand, his large and rough with calluses, and I easily pulled him up; he was just skin and bones. He was incredibly tall, but his frail and bony body made him look sick. I tried to cast that thought out of my head as I took hold of his arm and winnowed across the land.

I’d never been to the Spring Court but I’ve seen enough maps of it to know the terrain. When we arrived at his estate, I tried not to cringe at the sight of it. 

The gardens surrounding it were torn to shreds, wilting and brown from dehydration and death. The tree trunks almost all had enormous claw marks from one end to the other, all bare of leaves and the latter rotting on the ground near them. A garden of roses was all dried up and withered thin, no flowers grew and gnarled weeds took their place. Fountains were dry, bird feathers were gathered at odd places in clumps, and some of the marble arches and pillars bore the same claw marks as the trees.

When we arrived at the wooden front door, a long and diagonal scratch decorated the front and there was no door handle. So I pushed it open, stepping into a pitch black foyer. The shadow of a grand staircase loomed in the distance, curtains were drawn over the windows, and the dust was so thick, I could see clumps of it floating around the room.

Tamlin didn’t seem to notice any of this. He simply stepped through the threshold and walked through the room, avoiding the cracked tiles, the pieces of broken glass, stepping over destroyed debris of wooden furniture and shredded paintings. As if he was already used to this mess, like he knew where everything was.

I ignited a ball of faelight and followed him through the house. The farther we walked in, the more I realized not one piece of furniture was intact, not one painting or vase, not a single book. Pages and leather bindings were ripped apart and tossed around into piles of other broken things. 

As we neared the dining room, a powerful stench of rot hit my nose. So much so, I flared my wings subconsciously and knocked over a torn painting leaning against a broken table. Tamlin didn’t even flinch. 

When we walked into what I assumed was once a dining room, I saw where the stench was coming from. The carcass of what looked like a warthog was thrown over the cracked dining table. The blood had long gone cold and hard over the table and floors, and the flesh was rotting. I swore I saw worms crawling through the warthog’s eyehole.

I gagged but kept it together. I’ve been on battlefields before, but there was something so pitiful, so heart-wrenching about what I was seeing in this estate. I watched Tamlin walk through the grimy and dusty floors, pull a screeching chair out of the table and take a seat. 

And just stare at the walls. And I was left standing at the doorframe, staring at him.

Was it this bad when Rhysand came to see him after the Winter Solstice? It couldn’t have been like this—the reports claimed Tamlin was destroying things out of anger, but failed to describe the neglect, the utter despair he was in. Rhysand didn’t mention any of it either, or the darkness that loomed within Tamlin. He would’ve felt it without even entering his mind.

This was dangerous. Dangerous for Prythian—the balance of magic between the High Lords was critical to the land—but also dangerous for Tamlin. He was an empty shell that stared at nothing, didn’t care to eat or bathe or drink water. It was only until his powers as a High Lord took over and forced him to go hunting and once that last shred of energy was spent, Tamlin had no will to carve his prey and eat. His land was dying, his court empty—wolves wouldn’t normally pick a fight with a beast as large as Tamlin, and even _they_ have no respect for him, no fear. 

I hurried across the dining room, took Tamlin’s shoulder, and whirled him around to face me. He blinked a few times, but the green in his eyes dulled immediately. 

“This is no way to act,” I said. Me, an Illyrian female, scolding a High Lord. The blood of my people ran hot in my veins despite not living among them for decades. “You are the High Lord of the Spring Court.”

“I’m nothing.”

His response shocked me beyond measure. I clenched my jaw. “You’re not nothing; don’t think so lowly of yourself—”

“Please leave,” he whispered, lowering his head in shame. He shrugged off my hand from his shoulder. “Please.”

I leaned down to meet his empty gaze. Just remembering the darkness that lurked in his mind made the words fall from me with little thought. “You can always come back. Where there’s darkness and shadow, there’s also light—you just need to find it.”

Tamlin blinked slowly, thinking. His throat bobbed as he asked, “Where do I find it?”

“It’s not something you find quickly.” I knelt in front of him, meeting his eyes again. They were glazed over. My throat clenched at the sight of a once proud and powerful High Lord, shattered and at the brink of tears. “You have to work towards it, be patient, and be consistent.”

His throat bobbed again. “Am I worth it?”

“Yes, you are.” My eyes stung. I couldn’t help it. Never in my life had I seen someone so broken. I’ve heard horror stories of this male, from my High Lord and Lady, from Lucien Vanserra, from reports and from other spies. But no one can fake that looming cloud of darkness and despair, that suffocating feeling of emptiness and loneliness, of hopelessness and indifference. “You’re worthy of finding that light and using it to lead your way.”

When he didn’t reply, I asked in horror, “Have you thought of dying?”

“Yes,” Tamlin said. “But the magic in me is sentient. It does everything it can to keep me alive even when I don’t want it to.”

“You need to find the will in you to keep going,” I said hastily. My heart was pounding. Situations like these were so delicate. 

“That’s two things I need to find,” he pointed. “The light and the will.”

“They’re almost the same thing.” 

“Lucky me.”

The attempts at humor told me there was still something there, some spark that needed just the right amount of fuel to roar into a steady flame. A small one, but a flame nonetheless. 

“I’ll help you,” I said. I took his large hand, holding it between mine and warming his cold skin. His eyes shifted at my words. “I’ll help you find the light to lead your way.”

“And the will?”

“We’ll work on that together.” I watched his eyes roam over my face, a swirl of confusion in them, as if my words were foreign to him. His glance then trailed down to our joined hands. When he nodded, I smiled sadly. “This is a bargain. Are you agreeing to it?”

“I am.”

A design of black roses painted itself on the inside of his left forearm, the twisting stems lined with thorns. The twin to the tattoo formed on my own forearm, the design accommodating for the band that already existed there from my bargain with Rhysand long ago.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t know that could exist: doing things without wanting something in return.”

What have I done?

I chose not to winnow home for the first few hours. I chose to fly, feeling the land below me switch from a temperate breeze of spring to a scorching heat wave of summer. I needed to think, to clear my head, to let the weight of my rash decision sink in. I wiggled my arm as I soared, feeling the fresh tattoo underneath the sleeve of my Illyrian leather.

What the hell have I done?

The most hated male in Prythian, a traitor, the High Lord of nothing—I bargained with him and he agreed. A bargain that may not be achieved. I saw the darkness in him, the seemingly endless pit he’s hurled himself into. I’ve seen others emerge from dark places, but I’ve never encountered someone so lost. It gave me chills to think of the despair looming just on the other side of the bond between us. 

What will the others think? 

I certainly can’t tell Azriel what I’ve done—I compromised myself by letting Tamlin see me, to correctly infer that I was indeed spying. Not on  _ him _ exactly, but gathering information on his lands when he made it clear he wanted no one snooping. 

I sure as hell couldn’t tell Rhysand and High Lady Feyre. They despised Tamlin with a passion for all he’d done to them, to their loved ones, to their allies. Was this treason? My bargain has nothing to do with politics.

I felt my eyes sting. My heart shattered seeing him in such despair. I based my opinions on the High Lord of Spring from what I’d heard from others: from my High Lord and Lady, from his subjects, from the reports our spy network has gathered. I pictured him as a male bursting with anger and jealousy, a male that didn’t want anyone on his land and would kill anyone who stepped foot in it, a male that was killing game for the mere act of killing and destroying his belongings for the mere thrill of seeing things broken.

That was not what I saw, and I felt sick to my stomach. 

And so, I kept my mouth shut. My decision was still heavy in my chest, guilty for keeping this secret from those I considered family. How could I be so reckless? I suppose it’s the Illyrian in me. 

I reported my findings to Azriel when I finally winnowed the rest of the way home. No signs of human migration, only animals seemed to be finding alternatives due to the dying land and Tamlin’s irresponsible hunting. Azriel dismissed me and gave me 48 hours of rest before my next assignment, whatever that may be.

Two days of rest usually meant sleeping in, training, flying long distances for the thrill of it, or reading in the extensive libraries underneath the House of Wind. Instead, I found myself packing a light travel bag and heading for the Spring Court the next morning. I used my bond with Tamlin to winnow directly to where he was.

He was sitting right where I left him in the dining room. I’d done away with the rotting warthog before I left yesterday evening, but Tamlin didn’t seem to notice. He did; however, raise his head to look up at me as I approached.

“You came back,” he said, blinking.

“I did.” I cringed when I heard the broken tile crackle underneath my boots. “Why are you surprised?”

He didn’t answer my question, but he did ask, “Did you bring food?”

“Ah, you’re hungry,” I smiled. He seemed to understand his need for food after yesterday’s scolding. “Yes, I brought some for you.”

From my bag, I pulled out a wrapped ham and cheese sandwich from a very popular shop in Velaris. His nose flared at the scent and his eyes watched as I carefully unwrapped it and handed it to him. He started eating it without a word.

“Have you given any thought to what we spoke about?” I asked. “About finding the will and the light within you?”

He swallowed thickly and after a beat of silence, he responded, “I don’t believe there’s any coming back from where I am.”

“Yes, there is.” I looked around the darkened room for a chair that wasn’t in pieces. “You’re the High Lord of the Spring Court. Surely you know what this season represents in nature?”

“Life and fertility.”

“Yes, and what has to happen before?” 

“Everything has to die.”

“But it always comes back, doesn’t it?” I found a chair tucked into the corner of the room and began dragging it over. “Autumn and winter makes everything rot and die, but then spring comes and everything blooms again.”

“But this is the Spring Court, and everything is dying because of me,” he said with a long sigh. The magic in him was so unstable, it was affecting his court. I felt it when I was in the woods yesterday. “And I don’t care—I should, but I don’t.”

“Deep down you do care,” I said, placing the chair across from him and taking a seat. To my dismay, these chairs were not made to accommodate Illyrian wings. I shifted in discomfort, flaring my wings to wrap around the backrest. “This is your home—”

“Are you uncomfortable?” he asked suddenly. I was shocked he noticed.

“Only chairs from my court and the Dawn Court are ever designed to accommodate wings,” I told him. Finding no comfortable position for said wings, I merely let them droop on the floor. It would’ve earned me an enormous reprimand from Azriel and Cassian, but they weren’t here. “But back to the matter at hand: the first thing you have to do is find your will and your strength. You need to tell yourself consistently that you want to see tomorrow, and the day after that, and so forth.”

Tamlin sighed softly, squeezing the toasted bread underneath his fingertips and making it crackle. “I have nothing to look forward to.”

“Yes, you do.” I threw my hands up to gesture around me. “Look around and tell me three things you can start doing today.”

He raised his head and looked. “Clean?”

“This is a big house, you can’t possibly clean it all in one day.”

“Clean this room,” he amended. “Then clean the kitchen tomorrow, and then clean the entrance hall the day after.”

“That’s a good start,” I smiled. “You can also plan daily activities you know you have to complete in order to keep yourself going. Can you think of a few?”

“Eat,” he said, raising his sandwich in the air. When I nodded, he looked down at himself, at his torn clothing. “Bathe?”

“Very important, that one.”

He glared at me but I simply laughed. “You said it yourself: you need to find the will to bathe, eat, and clean this dining room for today. You’ve done one of those things already.”

Tamlin nodded and ate the last of his sandwich. When he finished chewing, he shrugged, “I don’t think I have any clothes to wear.”

“Lucky for you, Illyrian culture mandates females know how to sew and mend clothing,” I said and stood from the chair. I stretched my wings before tucking them in. “We’ll look for clothes.”

* * *

That was easier than I thought it would be. For all his blind rage, it seemed he only cared to destroy the wardrobe rather than the clothes inside. They were all merely scattered on the master bedroom floor. With some dusting off and some magic to make the colors more vibrant, they were good as new. I handed them to Tamlin, who seemed embarrassed, and I watched him disappear into a dark hallway, presumably to find a bathtub that wasn’t broken.

In the meantime, I opened the curtains in the main hallway. I almost immediately regretted it; it made the mess inside all the more obvious. I told myself he needed to see the gravity of his surroundings in order to fully understand his need to do something about it.

It seemed to work. When he made his way down into the main entrance hall, his eyebrows shot up to his forehead. I knew the clothing I gave him was his—a white shirt, a green doublet trimmed in gold, brown trousers, and leather boots. However, his massive loss of weight and muscle mass made the clothes look at least two sizes too big. Thankfully, his skin looked clean and he smelled like lavender. He must’ve overlooked the soap when he destroyed the estate.

We cleaned the dining room in silence. Unfortunately, most of the furniture was destroyed beyond repair so we opted to dump it at the front of the estate in a neat pile.

“This was my great-grandfather’s table,” he told me as he looked at the enormous claw marks down the middle. Besides the few chairs, it was the only piece of furniture in the dining room. “And I destroyed it.”

“Well, it’s not a complete loss,” I said, cocking my head in thought. “It’s just those enormous scratches right down the middle. If you ask me, it gives it character.”

“I don’t see it that way.” His tone was solemn and his shoulders dropped. I felt a wave of that darkness coming.

“I’m sure you have battle scars, right?” I asked. He nodded. “It’s the same here. Battle scars remind you of fights you’ve won and lost, and you have to learn to accept them. This table has a history and it’d be a shame to throw it out.”

“My father would’ve whipped me bloody if he knew I’d done this,” he murmured. I had to bring him out of this quickly, or else I feared he’d fly off into a rage. I could feel him trembling with it.

“You can fix it.” I ran my finger over the valley of the claw marks, going from one end of the table to another. “Any ideas?”

“I don’t know.” 

He wasn’t up for this; his tone said enough.  _ Not now. _ So I changed the subject, “Leave the table here. I’m sure you can come up with a solution another day.”

He shrugged and stormed out of the dining room, taking a shredded painting with him. 

* * *

By late afternoon, we’d finished clearing the dining room of broken furniture, mopped the floors, wiped down the windows, and dusted the curtains. The only thing left in the dining room was the table and a few chairs. I’d find Tamlin staring at the claw marks from time to time, as if he only now realized they were there, realizing just how much trouble he would’ve been in had his father known, how valuable it was to his family.

I’d brought enough food for the both of us. We ate on the steps of his estate; a small dinner of bread rolls and cheese with some fruit from the market near my apartment in Velaris. 

“Is this some kind of joke Rhysand is having you play on me?” he suddenly asked. “Seems like something he’d do.”

“No,” I answered truthfully, “You need help, Tamlin. You broke my heart, and yes, I feel pity for you, but trust me when I say I’m helping you because I want to. I expect nothing in return, and our bargain didn’t indicate I want anything in return.” 

He looked at the tattoo on his forearm; he’d rolled up his sleeve when he was moving out the wrecked furniture. “I didn’t know that could exist: doing things without wanting something in return.”

“I’ve helped many people overcome horrors they’ve seen in battle and in their lives. I want to see you get better; you’ve made mistakes, but so has everyone else.”

“My mistakes don’t deserve to be forgiven.”

“You need to learn to forgive yourself.” I was reminded of Rhysand, of what I’d told him when he returned from Under the Mountain. “Others forgiving you is their choice, but forgiving yourself is yours. Both give you peace of mind, but one is better than neither.”

Tamlin chuckled. It was a low and sad rumble. “You speak in riddles like a witch.”

“Well, I can get in your head, so maybe I am,” I laughed. When he frowned at me, and clarified, “I’m a daemati.”

“Ah, so that’s why Rhysand keeps you close,” he spat. “He has the habit of keeping valuable people nearby for his use.”

“I think you both have very misunderstood perceptions of each other,” I pointed out, slightly peeved by his assumptions. Then again, Rhysand claimed Tamlin was killing deer out of rage for Feyre when in reality, it was his powers screaming at him to eat. “But now that I mentioned my powers, our bond lets me communicate with you mentally across Prythian—”

“Oh, I know,” he said, a low growl erupting from his throat. “That’s how Rhysand knew to take Feyre away.”

“I’ll be checking in on you once a day,” I said, choosing to ignore his bitter statement. “I’ll be reminding you of your daily tasks. If you need anything, you can tug on the bond and I’ll respond.”

“I don’t think I can do what you expect of me.”

“One step at a time,” I reassured him. “The same way you can’t clean this estate in one day, you can’t expect to see light so quickly. And you’re immortal, so you don’t have to worry about time.”

He scoffed at my attempt to humor him. With a slap of my knees, and pulled myself up from the steps and grabbed my bag. “I’ll be on assignment after tomorrow, but don’t be afraid to call for me. I’m always available.”

He nodded slowly, watching as I stretched my wings to prepare them for flight. “What’s your name?”

I thought about lying to him—a spy should never reveal their true name. He seemed to realize how stupid that question was and immediately shifted his glance from mine. At this point, I’d already compromised myself and it’s not like I haven’t accompanied Azriel and Mor on diplomatic missions to other courts—my identity is not exactly a secret. 

“It’s Meiri,” I said, and his head perked up at hearing it. With that, I flapped my wings and hurled myself into the sky. I waved goodbye at him from the sky before I headed north to the Night Court.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All of those paintings and furniture were made by artists that take pride in their work; I’m sure it took them weeks, probably months, to finish it. And you destroyed it in seconds. And for what?”

I neglected to tell Tamlin of the dire state of his mind. The first time I entered it, I nearly suffocated myself. With the bond that now connected us, it was easier to stay upright, to slip past the enormous wall of thorns and to resist the tendrils of darkness. I didn’t linger too long in his mind; I’d stay in the outskirts to avoid overstepping his very delicate boundaries. 

The following morning, I tugged on the bond and spoke to him.

_ Good morning! Remember to eat and bathe. Today you’re cleaning the kitchen, but it’s okay if you don’t finish. There’s always tomorrow. Good luck and be patient. _

It was quiet on his end for the rest of the day as I ran some last minute errands. I cleaned my apartment, prepared some lunch, and went window shopping. When I returned in the late afternoon, I bathed, heated some soup over the stove, and settled on my couch underneath a warm blanket with a cup of tea and a half-finished book. 

I momentarily wondered what Tamlin was doing in his court. He had yet to call for me and I already checked in on him in the morning. Looking over the words printed on the pages before me, an idea came to me like a flickering light. 

_ I forgot to mention sleep is essential too. When I was a youngling, my mother used to come up with stories to get me to sleep. I have a book in front of me now, so I can read to you. Hopefully it’ll help. _

There was no response from his end. I could feel his presence, so he was probably ignoring me. Nevertheless, I left the bond open, flipped to the beginning of the book, and began reading the tale. I remember I’d picked this bestselling novel up from a bookstore in downtown Velaris.

_ The poor man would wake up every morning just as the sun rose to head to work, to provide for his lovely wife and for himself. He asked the heavens for some wealth every day—he was a good male that only wanted the best for his family. He only wished for a bit more food to eat, and a bit more money to buy it with. He didn’t ask for much. His prayers went unanswered, but he continued to work, to earn, to provide. And one day, as he returned home from a long day, he heard a group of males speaking in whispers. He leaned into the alleyway, to hear what they spoke of, and he couldn’t believe what he heard.  _

I yawned momentarily and arched my back to stretch my muscles. I needed to get a new couch; this one was nearly forty years old. Perhaps Cassian can help—

I felt a sudden tug that made my heart skip a beat in utter joy. Tamlin pulled on the bond! He was listening! But as flattered as I was that he wanted me to continue, it was getting late. It was nearly midnight, and Azriel was strict with punctuality.

_ I’ll have to continue the story tomorrow, Tamlin. Have a good night and sleep well. _

There was no response from his end, but I knew he was there.

* * *

I met with Azriel the following morning and he gave me my assignment which was thankfully nothing I haven’t done before. When I left my meeting, I gave Tamlin his wake up call.

_ I hope you slept well. Remember to eat and bathe. If you didn’t finish the kitchen yesterday, work on it today. If you did finish it yesterday, congratulations! Move on to the entrance hall. There’s no rush. Remember to be patient. _

As usual, there was no response from him. I didn’t mind.

If all went well, my new assignment would take me no more than a week. Basic reconnaissance, meet up with another spy to exchange information, and then report back to Azriel with the details. That night as I checked into an inn on the Continent, I felt a tug on the bond. I initially thought something was wrong, but when I noticed the time, I couldn’t help but laugh. The innkeeper gave me a strange look, but I merely smiled and hurried up to my room.

Tamlin wanted me to continue the story. I didn’t bring the book with me, but I’d read enough to know how it continued from where I left off. So I continued as best I could.

_ The males spoke of treasure! Bags of gold and piles of jewels—all the riches anyone could ask for. The treasure was hidden deep within the belly of a cave, guarded by a door of thick stone that only opened with a secret phrase.  _

I went on and on, staring at the ceiling of my room. I knew I was missing details, but what I felt I missed I would make up and what I secretly didn’t like about the story, I’d change. Tamlin wouldn’t know, and I knew he was listening intently.

_ And when he entered the cave, it was more glorious than he could imagine. The piles of gold towered over his head, jewels that blinded him, textiles that could be worth a fortune! But he only wished for some, for his wife to be happy and for his belly to be full. He only took one bag of gold, but as he did, he heard the stone doors of the cave hiss open. Someone was here! _

I smirked evilly as I stopped abruptly. And as I expected, Tamlin tugged on the bond rather roughly.

_ Hey! Easy with the pulling! I’ll finish it tomorrow. Have a good night, Tamlin. _

He tugged again but this time, he did so gently. 

* * *

For the days that followed, I continued to check on Tamlin in the mornings, and in the evenings before I turned in, I’d give him another chunk of the story. At this point, I was making up the story entirely; I added new characters, new treasures, and a jaw-dropping twist I was quite proud of myself for coming up with on the spot. I always left him hanging. And he’d always tug on the bond to let me know it left him wanting more.

I returned home on the fifth day of my assignment. As I gave my report to Azriel in the House of Wind, Rhysand entered the room. He was supposed to be present in this meeting, but Azriel figured he was running late, especially with the renovations being made to their new estate by the Sidra. 

Rhysand’s smile was almost breathtaking, bringing out the stars in his eyes, the flush in his cheeks, and the youth of his smile. He looked as if he was going to call out his wings, fly into the sky, and embrace the heavens.

“Feyre is pregnant!” he announced. 

Azriel’s face dropped and I couldn’t help but squeal in utter joy. I immediately embraced Rhysand. “Congratulations, Rhys! Is she doing alright?”

“She’d been feeling dizzy for a while so I had Madja take a look and—” He broke off for a second as Azriel embraced his brother warmly and patted his back. “She’d been pregnant since the new year! I couldn’t believe it! We’re due for the fall.”

“Boy or girl?” Azriel asked.

“We’re sure it’ll be a boy,” Rhysand admitted with a laugh. 

That night as I laid in bed reciting my routine bedtime story to Tamlin, I thought of how he’d feel if he found out Feyre and Rhysand were expecting their first child. In his fragile state of mind, he was certainly not ready for such news and I silently thanked his isolation. I just hoped the news wouldn’t reach him until some of the darkness was cast aside. 

I felt him tug on our bond, making me jump in surprise. I’d drifted off and stopped the story abruptly. I didn’t even remember where I left off. 

_ I’m very tired tonight, Tamlin. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow so I’ll finish the story then. Sleep well. _

He pulled gently in response before going silent. I threw my walls up and let myself go to sleep.

* * *

I arrived in the Spring Court the next morning. I landed in front of the estate, the pile of broken furniture still on the front lawn. Oddly enough, I noticed it hadn’t gotten any bigger. When I walked through the front door, I couldn’t help but sigh.

The entrance hall was still exactly how I’d left it a week ago. I avoided broken furniture and cracked tiles as I made my way across the room, following the bond that connected us. I hoped I’d be venturing a level below to the kitchens where he was supposed to be cleaning for the past few days, but the bond was leading me to the dining room.

He was either staring at a rotting carcass, staring at the ruined dining table, or probably destroyed the latter in a fit of blind rage. I clenched my jaw at the mere thought.

He was in the dining room, but he was hunched over the table. I couldn’t tell what he was doing but he didn’t even realize I was in the room until I let my travel bag drop on the floor beside me. His head whipped around, his green eyes wide. He looked like he was bathing; his hair was still split at the ends and too long, but his golden locks looked clean as did his skin and his clothing. He was still thin and lacked muscle, but he seemed to have perked up with energy.

“Have you been cleaning?” I asked him. When he avoided my glance, I sighed. “I’m not angry with you, but please tell me why you stopped.”

Tamlin stood there, fiddling with the chisel in his hand. Why did he have that? After a beat of silence, he stepped aside and nodded towards the table, urging me to approach. Curiously, I began walking towards him and with every step I took, more and more of the tabletop was revealed to me. My jaw dropped.

He carved out the table, using the claw marks to create a design of interweaving vines of blooming roses from one end to the other. The detailing was exquisite; every individual rose petal had a different fold and shape, every leaf had veins and some were even eaten away like caterpillars or other insects would’ve done. The vines had thorns, but each was smooth to the touch. This must’ve taken hours, days even. This is what he’s been doing?

“You told me to find a solution,” he said when I lifted my head to look at him. He twirled the chisel in his hand. “And I did.”

“This is beautiful,” I murmured, running my hands down the vines, where his claw marks once were. I’d never seen anything like it, not even in Velaris where artists were abundant. The city preferred the vibrancy of color, using paint and thread to create their work. It was rare to see woodwork in Velaris. “You have talent! When did you learn to carve like this?”

“Decades ago. When I wasn’t fighting or hunting or coming up with limericks, I was carving.” He placed the chisel on the tabletop carefully and walked across the room. I watched him pick up a chair and my stomach immediately flipped as he placed it in front of me. “I made this chair for you—for your wings. I haven’t seen too many chairs from your court or the Dawn Court, but I hope it’s more comfortable.”

It was beautifully carved with accents on the legs and on the sides of the seat. The backrest was low and dipped down on the sides, presumably to provide more space. It was nothing like the chairs in Velaris that were more modern and cubic, or the chairs in the Dawn Court that only had armrests and no backrests. This chair was more rustic.

When I sat down, it was surprisingly well measured and very comfortable for my wings. “You made this from scratch?”

“There were some fallen trees a few miles from here—thankfully they weren’t rotten yet,” he said, still avoiding my glance. “I’ve never made a chair, but it hasn’t buckled under you yet.”

I nodded slowly, taking in the surprising turn of events. He wasn’t cleaning, or at least tried to and then got distracted with wood carving, something he hasn’t done in decades. Something that can surely keep his mind occupied and not dwelling in the darkness that threatened to consume him.

“Hobbies are good to have,” I began, standing from the chair. I couldn’t decide whether to admire the chair or the beauty of the table. “Is this something you enjoy doing?”

“I didn’t even remember I could do this,” he said. “After I became High Lord, I didn’t have time to sit down and carve.”

“Well, you certainly haven’t lost your touch,” I smiled. “I’m not angry with you about the cleaning; you haven’t neglected your daily chores, but you have to learn to balance your musts with your wants.”

“I know, but I got distracted with the table,” he nodded slowly. “And I wanted to finish the chair before you came back.”

“You had a goal and you completed it,” I pointed out. “Good job. It’s one step in the right direction.”

I brought him some pastries from Velaris along with warm sandwiches and fresh fruits. He told me he’d hunted an elk and preserved the meat; he had enough to last him until next month. He picked what he could from the trees, but there wasn’t much, and had clean water to drink.

As we sat on the steps of the estate eating lunch, I finished the story of the poor man and the treasure cave. I hadn’t finished the actual book, which lay forgotten on my coffee table in the living room, and I doubted the plot took the strange road I set it on with my extravagant retelling. But he seemed enthralled by it, drinking in every detail. I think he knew I was making it up by now, but he didn’t seem to care. 

When I finished the story, we sat in silence. There were no birds chirping, only the warm breeze making the leaves rustle and fall from the branches. It still amazed me how it could be freezing in Velaris and be so warm here. I couldn’t imagine how hot it was in the Summer Court.

“Do you have more stories?” he asked.

“I’ve read a book or two in my time,” I smiled. “Any requests?”

“I was never much of a reader.”

“You don’t like to read?”

He glared at me, his nose scrunching up as if he smelled something foul. I raised a curious brow. “Does that make you angry?” I asked slowly, feeling his temper radiating from him. I suppose that answered my question. “Why?”

He growled as he opened and closed his fists. “When I inherited my father’s title, many of his courtiers left because I didn’t fit their image of a High Lord. I wasn’t groomed properly; all I knew was to fight and hunt.”

“So their image of a High Lord was a well-read aristocrat?”

“A High Lord that hosted balls and luncheons in the gardens with a lady on his arm,” he pointed his chin at the dried up rose garden in the distance. “I’ve never had patience for such things, and I’ve never had a lady on my arm. I thought Feyre would...” he trailed off, realizing he was speaking about my High Lady.

“Feyre wasn’t meant to play that role, the same way you were never meant to be High Lord,” I said. “Sometimes we’re thrust into things we don’t want to do while others are lucky to land just where they need to be.”

“I wasn’t lucky.”

“You weren’t lucky, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have the potential to be great. These are the cards the Mother dealt for you, so you have to learn to play with them.”

“I’ve lost all the trust of my people,” he murmured as his head dipped down. “The High Lords have no respect for me—no one does.”

“Lost things can be found, and trust and respect can be earned again.” I elbowed his bony arm. “You need to be patient. Everything will fall into place the more you accomplish.”

“I’m older than you,” he pointed out with his head in his hands. He looked as if he had a catastrophic headache. “How can you sound wiser than me?”

“I read more.”

His head shot up, his temper flaring at the mere mention of what seemed to be a major insecurity. His cheeks were flushed with it. But before he could speak, I held out a finger to stop him. “Breathe, Tamlin. You can’t let your anger control you.”

He was trembling with it now, even baring his teeth. I soothed him with my voice, “Breathe.” I inhaled, urging him to do the same, and then I exhaled. He followed along. His eyes were still burning, but his flushed skin was getting pale once again. “What made you angry?”

“You’re implying that I’m ignorant.”

“I didn’t say that; you  _ assumed _ that.” He growled at that and stood from the steps to pace the front porch of the estate. He looked like a caged animal. “You’re doing the same thing your courtiers did; you’re assuming things about others that aren’t true.”

“But I can’t stop them, can I?” he growled. I saw his talons protruding from his knuckles. I needed to reel him in, or else his fragile mind will let the darkness overwhelm the beast within. “They’ll always think I’m below them!”

“You’re right.” I stood to face him. I tucked my wings close out of habit. “You can’t control others, but you can control your own perceptions. You need to reel in your own temper, ask yourself why it’s making you angry, and then let it go.”

Tamlin continued to pace. I watched him carefully. I didn’t know what was worse: seeing him completely indifferent and lost, or seeing him ready to tear something to shreds in anger. I asked him, “Do you think feeling the way you’re feeling now will let you concentrate on those beautiful carvings you’re doing?”

That stopped his pacing abruptly. His shoulders relaxed and he avoided my eyes as I continued, “How long did it take you to finish the chair you made for me?”

“Three days.”

“And the table?”

“It’s still not finished.”

“And how fast did you get angry just now?”

His head dipped down. “Seconds.”

“Seconds that could have resulted in you destroying your hard work.” I pointed to the pile of debris in front of the estate. “All of those paintings and furniture were made by artists that take pride in their work; I’m sure it took them weeks, probably months, to finish it. And you destroyed it in  _ seconds _ . And for what?”

His talons receded from his knuckles as he crossed his arms over his chest. He looked heartbroken. I softened my tone, “I need you to realize the consequences of your anger. It’s driven people away from you and it’s destroyed things you hold close. Don’t let it do that because it’s not like those courtiers— _ you can control it _ .”

Tamlin took a step back until his shoulder blades pressed against a smooth marble pillar. He let himself slide onto the floor, sitting there with his head low and arms crossed. He looked like a scolded child, like he’s just been punished for eating sweets before dinner. Through our bond, I could feel his anger disappeared entirely only to be replaced by that looming darkness. He was falling, and I knew I needed to grab him before he got lost again.

“There was once a thief in a faraway land who knew nothing else but to steal,” I began. I sat down on the steps again, looking out into the green of the Spring Court. “He had to steal bread to eat, and jewels to sell, and even stole a cow he sold back to the owner who didn’t have a clue. He was such a great thief that a very wealthy male approached him and offered him a life of riches for eternity. He only needed to steal one thing for him, and it could very well cost him his life, but it was a beautiful object of immense power, an object that could only be found in legends and myths, an object that could move the oceans and the skies, an object that could determine life and—”

I smiled when I felt Tamlin tug on the bond. I looked over my shoulder to see him frowning at me, obviously peeved by my unnecessarily long narration. 

“I’ll tell you what it is when the kitchen is cleaned.” I jumped off the steps and went for the front door. “If we don’t finish today, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out.”

Tamlin practically flew into the kitchen. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s what I am: a miserable disappointment.”

We spent the next two days cleaning out the kitchen and the entrance hall. Since the bedrooms upstairs were equally destroyed and packed with layers of dust, Tamlin said he’d been sleeping outside by a campfire. 

“There’s nothing in my court to kill me anyway.”

“There’s wolves.”

He glared at me, but I only laughed.

After we ate dinner by the fire, I’d tell him another piece of the story and, of course, leave him hanging for the following day. On the last day of my stay in his court, he rolled his eyes and slumped onto his back in annoyance when I left him hanging yet again.

“The story can’t be  _ that _ interesting,” I pointed out with a laugh. I stretched my wings, making an ominous shadow form in the trees behind me. “I’m making it up as I go.”

“I think you have your mother’s talent for making up bedtime stories,” he said, looking up at the stars. Nothing compared to the nights in Velaris, but I was pleasantly surprised to see the stars were very clearly visible here too. “Is she alive?”

“No, she isn’t,” I sighed softly as I laid down on my side. “When I made my bargain with Rhys and left Ironcrest, my betrothed and his father felt they were cheated out of their promised union. Since they couldn’t pick a fight with their High Lord, they challenged my father to a fight, killed him, and then killed my mother when she got in the way.”

Tamlin’s eyes blazed against the crackling fire between us. He looked absolutely furious. “Where are they now?”

“I killed them myself,” I said, barely a murmur. “I took hold of their minds and shattered them to pieces. Rhys was at my side to guide me.”

Revenge was sweet at the moment, but I felt nothing afterwards. In fact, it made the reality of my parents’ death much more real. Rhys and Cassian felt incredibly guilty for what occurred, having promised they’d protect those I loved and failing to do so. Rhys was livid and set the strictest rules on Ironcrest, gave Cassian permission to enforce them with violence if need be, and even sent Azriel to terrify them. Part of the reason Rhys sent me to the Dawn Court was because of my loss, and eventually made way for my interest in healing the body and mind.

Tamlin looked as if he wanted to say something, but all he said was, “I’m sorry for what happened to your parents.” When I nodded in silent thanks, he added, “What were they like?”

“My mother made excellent rabbit stew and told amazing bedtime stories, as you know,” I smiled at the memory. “My father was an old-fashioned Illyrian warrior; he was the one who arranged my marriage and would’ve allowed my wings to be clipped.”

“And you don’t resent him?”

“He’s dead, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I resent mine,” he snarled like a chained beast. Even the fire trembled at the sound. “I hate him even after death.”

“Remember what I told you about your anger,” I warned him. “Your father is dead; there’s no reason to continue having this anger.”

“Some things are unforgivable.”

“I’m not saying you should forgive; it’s always a choice to forgive.”

Again, he looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He merely bid me good night, turned on his side, and went to sleep. 

As much as I wanted to tell my friends Tamlin snored like a battledrum, I knew they wouldn’t find it as humorous as I did. I threw my wing over my body for warmth, set up my mental shields to block out Tamlin’s excessive snoring, and went to sleep.

* * *

The next time I visited the Spring Court, the snow had melted in Velaris and the city’s preparations for Starfall were underway. Feyre was starting to show a bit of her pregnant belly, and Rhys was insufferably doting. He was constantly in and out of the townhouse, getting Feyre whatever she desired, anything from strange foods to freshly squeezed fruit juice when it wasn’t in season. It was hard to watch him tell her not to overexert herself with the remodeling of the estate by the Sidra; he never wanted to deny her anything, but he was more worried about the child in her than she was. Cassian and I teased him relentlessly for it.

I’d check in on Tamlin every morning and in the evenings tell him any wild stories I could think of. Through the bond, I could feel his darkness looming occasionally, circling around his walls of thorns like steam from a hot mug of tea. But it never advanced, nor was it receding too quickly. I knew progress was slow and patience was key, but I didn’t want to fail him. I wanted to make him realize that the light he needed to find was attainable if he really wanted it. I don’t think he’s come to that realization yet.

And so, I sent a letter to High Lord Thesan, asking for his opinion on the matter. I obviously kept Tamlin’s name out of it, marking him only as a friend that needed help. He replied in two day’s time, extensively detailing areas that he felt my friend needed to work through.

_ I believe your friend, like many of us who saw the horrors of our battle with Hybern, feels an immense amount of guilt. It can be the guilt of having lost their fellow warriors in battle and having to accept that their death is not a burden they should carry. Perhaps this guilt stems from what you stated was a loss of friendship and love—he may need to reestablish lost connections. I do warn you that this may not be recommended so early on in recovery: rejection could potentially set them back. However, I also see it is necessary to feel said rejection as it could bring awareness to their actions and words. I believe this should be dealt with very delicately. _

High Lord Thesan was always eloquent with his words, but usually spoke in riddles. He never gave a clear answer and always let you come to your own conclusions. It got tiring very quickly, but I did appreciate his prompt reply and that he didn’t ask prying questions about who my friend may be. 

When I arrived in the Spring Court, I was surprised to see the pile of debris in front of the estate was smaller. The front doors were still missing a door handle, but the claw marks that were once there were now beautifully carved vines of bougainvillea flowers. When I pushed open the door, the entrance hall was full of sunlight and clean. Tiles were still cracked and large pieces of wall paint were missing, but not a fleck of dust was flying about. 

I followed the bond deeper into the house and led me to the study in the upper floors. The hallways were lined with broken furniture, but it looked as if they were pulled out of the rooms by Tamlin and left there purposefully. Most likely to make the winnowing outside easier. As I continued; however, I noticed a room that had no furniture outside like the others and had the door shut. I approached it curiously, but before I could touch the doorknob, I heard Tamlin’s footsteps behind me.

“I thought you’d be coming later,” he said. He was in trousers and leather boots, his white shirt rolled up at the sleeves to expose his tattoo, and the first two buttons at the collar were undone. He was still relatively skinny, but it was obvious he’s begun to eat regularly. His golden hair was pulled up with a leather tie and when his green eyes shifted to the door behind me, his demeanor immediately changed. 

I instantly knew what was making him uncomfortable, so I volleyed the subject. “Where are you cleaning now?”

“I just finished the study,” he said, preferring to stare down the hall. “I was going to have lunch now.”

“Great! I brought sandwiches and those cheese pastries you like so much.”

As usual, we sat on the steps of the estate, eating our lunch in comfortable silence. He filled me in on all he’d been doing while I was away. Almost all broken furniture and paintings were in the hallways to carry out later, floors were mopped—broken tiles were going to be handled later—everything was dusted, and curtains were opened to let in natural light. He’d do cleaning in the morning and then spend the afternoons carving. He finished the dining room table and made more chairs—both for those with and without wings.

“What you said about me destroying the hard work of others made me angry,” he said, twirling the half-eaten apple in his hand. “I was angry because I was thinking of how angry I’d be if someone did that to my work. I was so stupid to—”

“You’re doing well, Tamlin,” I said quickly. “Don’t ruin it with lament.”

“I’ve been taking the wood from the wardrobes and tables to make other things,” he said. “I used the headboard from my bedroom to...” He stood from the steps and nodded towards the estate. “Follow me.”

He led me into a hallway towards the end of the estate lined with floor-to-ceiling glass windows that were surprisingly intact. That; however, was not what caught my attention. He opened a door leading into what I assumed was a gallery of paintings. Some were still untouched and on the walls, while some I assumed were in the hallways torn to shreds. 

Tamlin had fashioned it into his personal woodshop. Pieces of broken furniture littered the floor as did wood shavings and carving tools. But among the mess were works of art I couldn’t help but gawk at. Whatever pieces of furniture that could be recovered, he would fix as best he could and create designs to hide any imperfections. 

The sculptures were enthralling to look at despite being no bigger than a foot in height. I was flattered to see many of them were scenes of the stories I’d told him—the poor man holding coins of gold and jewels in his cupped hands and the thief pressing his ear against the tea kettle he’d been told could move oceans and skies. They were beautifully detailed, the expression in their eyes, the wrinkles in their clothes, the strands of their hair. 

Tamlin approached me while I was distracted, holding up a sculpture of a scene I recognized vividly. It was the day I saved him from the pack of wolves. He carved me with incredible detail, from the scales of my Illyrian leather to the cut of the Siphon on my wrist and the grip of my daggers around my waist. Even my wings were tucked in tightly, the talons at the top sharp and the inner membrane a lighter shade than the edges of my outer wing. A wolf was on its hind legs in front of my wooden replica, its fur detailed and ruffled, fangs bared and lips curled. The look in my eyes as I stared down at the wolf was fierce and protective without an ounce of fear.

“This one is for you,” he said softly. “I didn’t mind dying that day and I was angry that you intervened...” he trailed off, looking down at the beautiful art in his large hands. I felt my eyes stinging with tears the more and more details I picked out of it. “But I’m grateful you did. I’m starting to look forward to the next day. I haven’t been able to admit that in a long time.”

When I felt tears roll down my cheeks, I quickly slapped a hand over my mouth to quiet a sob bubbling in my throat. I pivoted sideways, trying to hide my uncontrolled emotions. Illyrians held themselves with dignity, and crying was done in private, if at all.

“You don’t like it?” he asked. He didn’t sound angry; he sounded hurt. 

“I love it.” I breathed in deeply and wiped my tears. I willed my voice to remain steady. “No one’s ever made something like this for me. This is beautiful, Tamlin. Thank you so much.”

He smiled softly. A true smile.

* * *

We began winnowing broken furniture out of the estate and onto the front lawn until the sun began to set. Over the campfire, we ate tasty venison stew and some ale Tamlin found in the kitchens when he was cleaning. I mustered the courage to bring up the topic.

“I think you should talk to Lucien Vanserra.” I cringed at seeing his expression sour entirely. “I know you two had a falling out, but I think you should try to talk to him again.”

“I don’t think he wants to see me. I gave him a black eye.”

If I counted the amount of black eyes Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys have given each other, they’d be bitter enemies. “I think everything has been a big misunderstanding, and the next step in your recovery should be to try to right your friendship with him.”

I felt Tamlin’s darkness looming around him, his shoulders dropping in the process. I shot down the bond, pulling on it to anchor him down. I touched his mind with my words,  _ Invite him to talk, and I will be with you every step of the way. _

The crackling of the fire ate away at the silence between us but after a minute, he asked, “What if he says no?”

“If he’s your friend, he won’t.”

* * *

I returned to Velaris a few days before Starfall. Before I left the Spring Court, I’d sat down with Tamlin and helped him write a letter to Lucien. He was reluctant, but he trusted me and I prayed to the Mother that Lucien would respond positively. 

I placed the sculpture of myself on my windowsill facing the street. A bit narcissistic, I thought, but I was so flattered by it, I wanted to put it out in the open. Mor came around in the afternoon to go shopping for Starfall gowns and pointed it out.

“Where’d this come from?”

“It was made for me.” I had to be careful with what I said to her; she could pick out the truth from anyone. I was also lucky to be wearing long sleeves when she suddenly appeared at my front door; she would’ve noticed my new tattoo in an instant. “It was a gift, and I couldn’t say no.”

“What does the wolf represent?” she asked, touching the wood in curiosity. Her raised eyebrows told me she didn’t expect it to be so smooth. “Just artistic imagination?”

“I guess. You know artists are weird.”

“Oh I know,” she laughed. “Feyre’s had a major burst of inspiration and she’s painting faster than she can buy paint and canvases. And Rhys is worried the smell of paint will harm the baby.”

I burst into laughter. “Don’t let Cassian hear that!”

We purchased beautiful gowns for Starfall. Mor’s was red, as usual, with accents in gold and exposing her back. Mine was a deep purple with sleeves and, like Mor’s, it exposed my back. I twisted my black hair up into a messy updo, powdered my face, brushed some smokey eyeshadow on my eyelids, and opted for some light lipstick. We met up with everyone on the Sidra, having drinks and chatting as we waited for the souls to light up our skies. Despite her new body, Amren still opted to stay indoors.

As Mor and I ordered cocktails at the bar, I felt a rough tug on the bond. I excused myself from my friends and hurried to a somewhat empty street and speared my way to Tamlin’s mind. His walls were strong with thorns, but I politely asked for admittance and he eagerly let me through. I situated myself carefully in his field of vision, seeing what he saw, and making sure to make my presence known in an attempt to soothe his frantic nerves.

Lucien had just winnowed onto the front steps of the estate, first eyeing the pile of broken furniture before looking upon Tamlin. He looked the same since the last time I saw him when he was reporting to Azriel and I—long fiery red hair, one russet eye and the other a golden orb that clicked with movement. He wore a simple shirt and leather jacket, hunting trousers, and knee-length boots. On his belt, he carried a short sword.

Lucien greeted him curtly as he went up the stairs and Tamlin did the same. The awkward air between them could be sliced through with a butter knife.

“You’re not one for apologies,” Lucien began as he walked into the main entrance hall. He was looking around, no doubt noticing the cleanliness. “So what’s this really about?”

_ Breathe.  _ I told him gently. Lucien’s tone was not welcoming at all.  _ Remember he’s angry at you. Keep your calm. _

“It’s to apologize,” Tamlin began. “I’ve had time to think about my actions and pushing you away wasn’t what I should’ve done.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you admit it, but it doesn’t change the fact that you kicked me out like I was worthless.”

“I wasn’t thinking straight, Lucien. I thought the best thing for me was to be alone but I was wrong—it was the worst decision I could’ve made.”

“You’ve made worse decisions.”

I felt his temper flaring.  _ Breathe, Tamlin. Don’t let your anger control you. Reel it in. Show Lucien you’ve worked hard to recover. _

Tamling growled lowly. “I’m trying to right my wrongs. Can’t you see that?”

“You threw me out when you knew I had nowhere else to go!”

“I said I was sorry—”

“That doesn’t help me in any way, Tamlin! I’m exiled from the Autumn Court, I’m exiled from your court—a place I considered  _ my home _ —my mate spits on the ground I walk on, and I don’t want to live off the handouts of Rhysand and Feyre! Jurian and Vassa have accepted me because they’re like me— _ unwanted _ .”

“I’m unwanted too!” Tamlin roared, his anger unfurling dangerously. My ears rang from it. “No one can stand to look at me! My land is dying and empty, even the animals are migrating! Rhysand told me I deserved this miserable life, that I deserved to be alone, that suffering was the only way I could repay my debts and I  _ listened _ . I kicked you out because he told me to!”

“So now you’re blaming Rhysand? Last I checked, you don’t take orders from him!”

I was slammed out of Tamlin’s mind so roughly, I nearly stumbled on the street. I tried to spear down the bond again, but I couldn’t get through. I tried tugging but it went rigid. My heart began to thump in my chest, my hands trembling.

Rhysand told him that? Why would he _ do _ that?

I hurried back to the Sidra where the crowd had gotten larger, desperate for a glance at the spirit migration set to happen soon. It was easy to spot my friends, with Cassian’s boisterous laugh and Azriel’s dancing shadows, with Feyre’s sparkling dress tailored to accommodate her pregnant belly, Rhys’ sparkling smile and Mor’s vibrant red dress. 

I wanted to approach Rhysand with this. I wanted to ask him if this was true; if he was capable of wishing something so cruel upon someone that was clearly contemplating death. I wanted to, but I couldn’t waste any time with that. Giving them all one final glance, I carefully peeled myself away from the crowd until I entered an empty street, pushed myself into the skies with one thrust of my wings, and winnowed.

When I arrived at the Spring Court, the silence was eerie. I couldn’t hear anymore yelling from within, meaning Lucien probably stormed out. Gathering up the skirts of my dress, I tucked my wings close and hurried into the house. I attempted the bond again, tugging furiously to elicit some sort of reaction from Tamlin.

He responded weakly; I could barely feel when he pulled me to where he was. Leading me into the estate, up the stairs, into the gallery where his workshop was.

And there he was, sitting on the floor surrounded by shredded pieces of all his sculptures. The few paintings that survived the first onslaught were now in ribbons. Even the walls had claw marks. Everything was ruined; everything he worked hard to create.

“Don’t say you aren’t angry at me,” he said, the flatness of his tone telling me he’d hurled himself down that dark pit once again. “Don’t lie to me.”

I let my dress pool around my legs, the tears in my eyes making the room blurry. “I’m not angry. I’m disappointed.”

“That’s what I am: a miserable disappointment.”

I walked over and knelt before him. There were shadows underneath his bloodshot eyes, his hair tangled and frizzy, his eyes dull and empty as they looked up at me, no doubt seeing his reflection in the hazel of my own. 

“You don’t deserve to be miserable, Tamlin.” I pulled him into a hug. He went still as a rock as I hugged him tighter, as I sobbed on his shoulder. “I’m not giving up on you no matter how disappointed I am.”

His arms wrapped around me, the calluses on his palms rough against my exposed lower back, just underneath my wings. He squeezed me so hard, I thought I’d suffocate, but I knew he was trying to reel in his emotions to no avail. 

His sobs made the house tremble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have a good heart, Tamlin. Your father doesn’t see it, but I do. You will always be my son.”

When the tears subsided, we sat there in the ruined woodshop gallery. I began telling him a story of three princes that fell in love with a beautiful princess and nearly started a war for her. The princess’ father promised his daughter’s hand in marriage to the first prince to find an object of the highest value. I went on to tell the adventure of each prince as they looked for their valuable object, the struggles they faced and how they overcame them. 

Tamlin listened intently without saying a word. The rays of early morning sunlight began to beam in through the open windows, making his messy golden hair glow and his green eyes sparkle despite the emptiness in them. 

“But upon their return to the castle, each prince confident that their valuable object will make them eligible for marriage, they were told dreadful news. The father of the princess had his head low and his eyes filled with tears as he told them and the princes couldn’t help but weep with him...” I looked at the sun rising over the horizon just outside the window and smiled softly. “That’s it for today.”

“Is the princess dead?” Tamlin asked. 

“You’ll have to wait and see,” I said and stood from the floor, dusting the skirts of my gown. “Let’s have some breakfast and clean this room up.”

“Where were you going last night?” he asked as he followed me through the hallways. “You look beautiful.”

I felt my face heat up and my mind suddenly went blank. I managed to stutter, “Thank you.” 

I think Tamlin noticed my embarrassment because he smirked playfully, “You didn’t answer my question, Meiri.”

“It was Starfall last night,” I elbowed him in the ribs. “Have you heard of it?”

“Rhysand used to tell me about it; it was his favorite holiday.” We entered the kitchen and Tamlin began to rummage for dried fruit and some bread he’d saved from my previous visits. “It’s the migration of souls, if I remember correctly. Only visible from the Night Court.”

“You two used to be friends,” I said carefully. Rhysand told me they’d met at court functions, being forced to attend as the sons of High Lords, and became fast friends. They’d visit each other and train. But then Tamlin, his brothers, and his father hunted Rhysand’s mother and sister in the Illyrian woods like animals while the females were waiting for Rhysand to leave Windhaven. They sliced off their heads, sent them down the river in boxes for the nearest war-camp to find, and kept their wings as trophies. They knew their location because Tamlin had told them, and Rhys and his father then killed Tamlin’s family in retaliation.

“We were,” Tamlin nodded. “But I’m sure he told you that.”

“He told me what happened to his mother and sister, too.”

“You know, and you’re still here?”

I made the bargain with him on a whim, out of pity for his situation. I tried not to think about what he’d done to Rhys’ mother and sister, tried to push it out of my mind as I tried to help Tamlin out of his suffocating misery. 

“I’d planned to bring it up later in your recovery,” I said. “When you were ready to start reestablishing lost connections—”

“Because my reconnection with Lucien went so well last night,” he scoffed bitterly. We were already out on the patio and he slumped himself down on the steps. He bit down on a slice of crunchy dried apple. “This is all pointless.”

“Remember that forgiveness is a choice and you can’t control the feelings of others.” I sat beside him, arranging my skirts comfortably before taking a slice of apple from the jar between us. “You did your part—it could’ve been better, but you tried. It’s a step in the right direction.”

There was a brief moment of silence before he asked softly, “What did he tell you about what happened with his mother and sister?”

I told him what Rhys had told me. As I did, Tamlin’s face began to fall not in rage, but in grief. Judging by what I was sensing down the bond and his body language, I couldn’t help but feel myself bristle. Rhys lied about what he and Tamlin had spoken about in the winter. Did he lie about this too? Or was it all a big misunderstanding?

“Your mother wasn’t supposed to die,” I said. “Rhys said his father got carried away. He wanted to kill you too, and Rhysand tried to stop him before you killed him.”

Tamlin sighed softly and dipped his head down to look at his boots. “It all happened so quickly and there was so much rage in me, for what happened, for what Rhys and his father did, for my mother...” He breathed in deeply. “We never touched the subject again.”

“So for almost a hundred years, you two have never once talked about this?” I frowned. Typical males.

Tamlin nodded. “It’s too late now.”

“We’re immortal; we have all the time in the world.” With a swish of my skirts, a knelt before him, looking into his deep green eyes. I tugged on the bond and said in his mind,  _ Can I see? _

He replied by letting his walls of thorns pull open like a curtain. I stepped through and followed the path he set for me, the path leading to the memory I was looking for. When I finally reached my destination, I began flipping through the memory like a picture book. The images were vivid and clear, all through his eyes as the events unfolded.

_ Tamlin, _ the letter in his hand started. I could tell it was Rhysand’s handwriting.  _ I won’t be able to meet with you this week or the following to train. My mother has insisted I go home and spend some time with her, so I’ll be meeting up with her and my sister on the outskirts of Windhaven tomorrow. It’s a shortcut she loves to take that leads to a cliff; it has the best currents for flying. It’s a shame you can’t grow wings! _

The note was suddenly snatched out of his hand, making Tamlin growl and turn to look at a young male. He was dashingly handsome with long blonde hair and dark brown eyes that lit up as he flashed a wicked smirk. He was dressed in a green and gold doublet, black trousers, and spit-polished boots. Tamlin’s eldest brother.

“Writing love letters with the half-breed?” he sneered, shoving Tamlin when he tried to take the letter back. Despite having parried Tamlin’s lunge, he nearly stumbled. “Is he your mate? Father will not be pleased.”

“Nothing pleases father,” Tamlin said, finally taking the note back and crushing it in his palm. He turned towards the fireplace I recognized as the one in the library and tossed the paper inside. He watched it turn to ashes. “What do you want?”

“We’re going hunting; father’s had enough of the mutton the cooks keep making,” Tamlin’s brother shrugged. “And we need someone to carry the hunting gear.”

“I’ve hunted bigger elk than any of you.” Tamlin shoved him as he made his way to the exit. Again, his brother stumbled from Tamlin’s raw strength, and the sour look on his face said it all. Tamlin was showing affinity for the High Lord’s power, and he had been doing so for some time. 

They made it out to the front of the estate. It was so drastically different from how it was now: the gardens and hedges were beautifully kept, servants were working at every corner, birds were chirping happily and insects were buzzing. The earth smelled sweet and alive.

“I don’t want a speck of mud on the floors when you all return!” Tamlin’s mother scolded lightly, watching as her husband and mate sheathed blades into his belt and her second son bridled his horse. She was an elegant female dressed in a fine gown of blush pink and gold, her dark hair in loose curls and pinned up with white lilies. When she looked over her shoulder, her deep green eyes were exactly like Tamlin’s. “The same goes for the both of you.”

“When have we ever tracked mud into the house, mother?” Tamlin teased, kissing her cheek. The female gave him a peeved look, making Tamlin stammer, “Once, perhaps.”

“Too many times to count!”

“Weren’t you to meet with that half-breed?” Tamlin’s father suddenly asked, his voice laced with utter disgust. He was an enormous male, broad-shouldered and tall and built with so much muscle, his leather doublet looked to be struggling at the seams. Like Tamlin, he had long golden hair he’d pulled back with a leather tie, his jaw strong like all three of his sons’, and his eyes a light amber. “I’ve told you he is not your friend. The Night Court is not to be trusted.”

I felt Tamlin’s temper flare at his father’s words, but a sliver of fear kept it at bay. Sudden images of his father beating him, calling him weak and emotional, flashed by me. 

“Perhaps it’s some holiday,” Tamlin’s second-oldest brother suggested. He looked the most like his mother with wavy dark brown hair and bright green eyes. “I hear those Illyrians believe in moon gods and river monsters.”

“The half-breed needs to see his mother,” Tamlin’s oldest brother mocked. “He’s still attached to her teat.”

“Next time you need to untangle your hair, I’ll be sure to call for your father,” Tamlin’s mother chimed in. At her words, Tamlin and his other brother roared with laughter while their father glared at his now very flushed eldest son. The Lady of the Spring Court simply smiled. Being the only female in a house full of males, she’d obviously learned to handle herself very well. “Be careful, and don’t return too late.”

The memory flipped ahead to the following morning. Tamlin had just finished dressing when he heard a blood-curdling scream from downstairs. Recognizing it as his mother’s, he grabbed his bandolier of knives and threw it on as he rushed downstairs. When he stood at the top of the sweeping staircase of the entrance hall, he felt his stomach turn.

Blood was everywhere on the tiles. His brothers and his father were covered in it and his mother was screaming. Servants stood paralyzed, unsure of what to do and waiting for their High Lord to give them orders. When Tamlin’s eldest brother held up a set of bloody Illyrian wings, his mother doubled over and vomited on the floor.

“What have you done?” Tamlin was at the bottom of the stairs now, revolted by the smell of blood and death. His brothers had not one, but  _ two _ sets of Illyrian wings in their hands and his father looked incredibly pleased with himself. Tamlin asked again, “ _ What have you done? _ ”

“We went to see the half-breed just outside that Illyrian camp,” his eldest brother grinned wickedly. “He wasn’t there, but his mother and sister were right where he said they’d be.”

Tamlin’s mother vomited again. The High Lord barked at a nearby servant, “Take her away!”

As the servant helped the Lady up and rushed her out of the room, Tamlin’s breathing became uneven. The room began to spin. “You killed Rhys’ mother and sister? Why? It’s meaningless slaughter!”

“Wash the blood off those wings and pin them to the study, boys,” the High Lord urged his older sons away. Tamlin avoided the sight of those wings; they were still gushing blood at the stumps. He was trying so hard to control his nausea, he didn’t notice his father had approached him until he clasped his large hand over his shoulder. “One day, you will understand that what you call  _ meaningless slaughter _ is how you earn respect.”

“Killing an innocent female and her daughter earns one respect?” Tamlin looked up at his father, the rage and disgust looming around him like the smoke of a wildfire. “You’re nothing but a coward.”

I cringed at the blow Tamlin received to the jaw. His father punched him so hard, he fell back and into the pool of blood on the tiles. Tamlin was dizzy from it, barely conscious. I could feel the throbbing pain as if I’d been the one that received the blow.

“You will always be weak,” the High Lord spat. “You’re no son of mine.”

The memory flipped ahead to later in the day. The sun was just beginning to set, the orange and yellow beams painting the master bedroom as Tamlin walked inside holding a hot cup of tea. His mother was sitting by the windowsill, looking out into the rose gardens that the High Lord had given her as a mating present. When she took the mug from Tamlin, she reached out and touched his face. Tamlin winced as she touched the large bruise gently.

“It’s not your fault,” she said. Tamlin whimpered, trying to hold back his sobs. His mother continued, “None of this is your fault.”

“He read my letter from Rhys—I should’ve known—” he choked. “I should’ve warned Rhys.”

“Don’t blame yourself.” His mother set the mug down and brought Tamlin to her chest in an embrace. He was still resisting the urge to cry. “You have a good heart, Tamlin. Your father doesn’t see it, but I do. You will  _ always _ be my son.”

“Rhys will find out what happened,” he said with certainty. “Father thinks he’s smarter than everyone else, but he doesn’t know Rhys.”

“Your father will reap what he sowed,” she said, running her fingers through his hair soothingly. “What he and your brothers did is unforgivable.”

That night, Tamlin jumped awake. His body was shaking and his magic crackled just beneath his skin. He heard distant voices down the hall, footsteps and shouts. The metal tang of blood hung in the air, and Tamlin felt his stomach turn.

He jumped out of bed and didn’t think of grabbing a blade. He went for his door, swinging it open only to see the High Lord of the Night Court standing in the corridor, pushing past Rhysand. Both males were covered in blood, his family’s blood, and staining the tiles. Just as their family’s blood stained the tiles of the entrance hall. 

Tamlin went into a blind rage. The magic in him exploded and he hurled himself forward, straight for the High Lord of the Night Court. He didn’t have time to react, to yell, to raise his hand or move a muscle. Tamlin sliced through him with nothing but razor sharp magic, magic he’s always been just within reach of but could never quite grasp it. 

And then it clicked. The power of the High Lord of Spring slammed into him like a tidal wave, rumbling through his veins like thunder. Tamlin raised his head to look upon Rhysand across the corridor. He too felt it slam into him, the power his father passed onto him upon his death. 

They stared at each other in silence. The hatred, the rage, the grief, the betrayal. Rhysand knelt down, placed a hand over his father’s bloodied corpse and winnowed away, leaving Tamlin in the eerie silence of the estate.

Tamlin sobbed over his mother’s body, holding her to his chest as she did just hours ago. She was killed brutally in her bed alongside his father. The latter had it coming, but his mother? She was innocent. Just like Rhys’ mother.

The estate was empty of servants. Rhysand and his father must have driven them away with their daemati powers. Even the sentries were gone. One by one, Tamlin carried his family out into the open field in front of the estate. First his mother; he laid her carefully onto the grass. Then his father; he set him right next to her. Then he carried out his brothers and set them down next to his father. 

He went around the estate and picked a few roses, not caring for the thorns digging into his fingertips. He was numb to the pain. He tucked the roses into his mother’s hands over her chest. He then walked into the study and carefully unpinned the two sets of Illyrian wings from the wall and carried them outside. He placed them over his father and brothers. Hopefully, Rhys’ mother and sister will haunt them for eternity.

Tamlin set them ablaze and sat on the estate’s front steps until they were nothing but ashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t tire him out too much—I don’t think he knows Illyrian females last longer in bed than the males.”

“Where did you run off to?” Mor asked when I returned to Velaris that afternoon. She had already changed out of last night’s gown and was in a light coat and boots. “We looked everywhere for you, and you blocked off Rhys.”

I hadn’t even had time to change out of my purple gown. I only had time to get a glass of water from my kitchen before Mor was pounding at my front door. I stretched my wings to win me more time as I came up with a suitable answer, “I was with someone.”

“Well, you certainly smell different,” Mor smirked crookedly. “You had a good tumble in the sheets, didn’t you?”

Perhaps what she was smelling on me was the constant winnowing back and forth as Tamlin and I cleaned his workshop. Perhaps Mor was just trying to pick me apart for answers; making incorrect assumptions so I’d correct her and tell her the truth.

“I bet it’s the same person that gave you the sculpture,” Mor pointed in its direction. A wave of sadness washed over me at the thought of it. “It’s the key to this mystery person.”

“You don’t have anything to do today?” I teased. “Don’t you have to play midwife or something?”

“That’s Madja’s job; you know I can’t handle children,” she scoffed playfully. “Amren’s worse; we’ll have to prepare her for the new addition.”

“Who knows? Maybe Amren and Varian will like the idea of having babies.”

“ _Another_ Amren? No thanks!”

When Mor left, I took a long shower and changed into a sweater and tights. As I brushed out the tangles in my dark hair, I heard another knock at my door. I figured it would be Cassian or even Rhys, trying to pry me for answers on the mystery male Mor no doubt told them about. I could handle Cassian, but I wasn’t so sure about Rhysand right now. He kicked Tamlin while he was down, digging into his open wounds and insisting he live a life of isolation and misery. I didn’t want to believe Rhysand was capable of something so sinister when Tamlin revived him and tried to undo his terrible decision of allying with Hybern. It was his choice whether or not to forgive him, but he had no right to push him over the edge like he did.

Rhysand has also hated Tamlin for so long, saying he’d purposefully betrayed him and was present when his mother and sister were killed when that wasn’t true. It wasn’t my place to tell him this; I wanted Tamlin to hopefully confront him about it one day and clear the air. 

Thankfully, the knocking on the door wasn’t Rhys or Cassian. It was a High Fae female, only a bit smaller than me. She had curly brown hair, warm brown eyes, and tanned skin. Her pointed ears were pierced with jewels and she wore a simple pendant necklace that accentuated the scoop neckline of her sweater. 

“Good day!” she greeted with a big grin. “I wanted to ask where you purchased that sculpture. I assume you had it commissioned?”

I blinked in confusion; this female spoke very fast. “It was a gift.”

“Do you know the artist?”

“Well, yes…” When her eyes widened in excitement, I quickly added, “He wishes to stay anonymous, though.”

“Even better! A mysterious artist always does wonders for sales.” She reached into her pocket and handed me a laminated card. “My name’s Rhiannon; I’m an art dealer. My office is right in the center of the Rainbow—it’s all on my card. I saw your sculpture on my way to the Sidra last night for Starfall and I absolutely _loved_ it!”

I had to resist the urge to smile like a complete idiot. I immediately tugged on the bond and opened my mental shields for Tamlin to listen in.

This fast-talking female went on and on about the exquisite woodwork of the sculpture; she somehow convinced me to let her in so she could take a closer look at it. “I think this has potential on the market. Everything here in Velaris is paint and tapestry and old-fashioned furniture, but _this_ ?” She wagged a finger at the sculpture. “This is _different_ , and I _love_ different. This would look great in my customers’ homes, and trust me when I say I have a lot of rich customers. I deal with Fae from all courts and I export art even across the Continent.”

I nodded slowly and opened my mouth to say something, but she beat me to it, “Get in contact with your artist friend and tell him I’m very interested. Bring me a few of his samples and whatever sales I make, I’ll give him a cut. Deal?”

“I’ll talk to him,” I nodded, smiling. I felt a tug on the bond. “But I’ll be the go-between. Like I said, he wants to stay anonymous.”

“That’s completely fine; just let me know!”

When I closed the door behind her, I laughed to myself. _How does that sound, Tamlin?_

Another tug.

 _You see how everything falls into place? Patience and consistency are all you need._

His third tug was a bit softer. I felt a bit of hesitation from his side of the bond between us. I soothed him. _Just focus on making good work. Don’t rush it. I have her card and she’s not going anywhere. Don’t forget your daily tasks and your cleaning. Those are important too._

* * *

Cassian teased me about the mysterious male in my life. Azriel didn’t touch the subject and Rhysand congratulated me—after teasing me, of course.

“Should we be expecting a happy announcement by the end of the month?”

If Rhys knew the tattoo under my Illyrian leather bound me to Tamlin, he’d bring down the House of Wind. I only scoffed. “Don’t get too excited, Rhys. I heard pregnant females need to watch out for rainy days—it could harm the baby.”

Cassian roared with laughter and Azriel merely smiled. Rhys blushed and turned away.

Azriel had me on a few assignments on and off for the following two weeks; gathering information, checking in on our spy networks already on the field, traveling to the Continent, and looking into the Mortal Queens’ extensive courts. 

I always checked in on Tamlin in the mornings and told him a story in the evenings. It became such a habit, something even I looked forward to. It reminded me so much of my mother. I sometimes even lulled myself to sleep with my own stories and Tamlin would playfully tug on the bond to jolt me awake. To tease him, I’d always stop the story there. I started to think he would do that purposefully.

When I finally returned to Velaris, I reported to Azriel and went home for a shower and a long nap. When I woke up, I went shopping for sandwiches, pastries, and fresh fruits, packed them into my travel bag, and winnowed to the Spring Court.

“Everything is so clean!” I called out into his woodshop. Tamlin looked over his shoulder, a chisel in one hand and a carving knife in the other. His hair was up, his shirt was unbuttoned at the collar and his sleeves rolled up, exposing his tattoo. He’d been getting a bit more muscular due to his regular meals and hunting. The smile he flashed my way made my skin pucker. He had a lovely smile that made his green eyes light up like jewels.

“Only the pile of rubble at the front is left,” he said and pointed behind him. “I’ve been using whatever I can salvage for my sculptures.”

Indeed, he’d been working hard and diligently. Some were small, like tabletop knickknacks, bookends, and wall silhouettes. Others were larger sculptures of scenes from my stories, of what I recognized as his mother holding a bouquet of roses, and a very familiar-looking female in a dress that looked an awful lot like the one I wore for Starfall. I didn’t point it out and only held up the bag of food. He immediately understood and followed me out to the patio.

As we sat having lunch, Tamlin broke our silence. “Lucien came by a few days ago.”

I tensed up. “I didn’t feel you tug on the bond.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you. I knew you were working—well, spying.”

“Alright, you’ve made your point,” I smiled. “I’m assuming it went well?”

“It went better,” he began, twirling the cheese pastry in his hand. “He came by and said he’d thought about my apology and saw that I was making an effort with myself and the estate.” Tamlin rolled his eyes playfully. “He said that if I was apologizing, it meant that I’d definitely changed for the better.”

“Do you think you’ve changed?”

Tamlin smiled softly. “I think I have. At least a bit.”

“What else did he say?”

“He said it’ll take some time for him to forgive me, but he’s open to writing to me and keeping in contact.”

“That’s wonderful!” I clapped my hands gleefully. “What have I been telling you all this time?”

“Patience,” he nodded, clearly amused by my reaction. “Patience and consistency.”

“I’m glad I finally got something through that thick head of yours.” I boldly smacked him on the forehead, to which he responded with a nudge that almost tossed me across the patio. He looked ready to apologize for his brute strength, but I only laughed.

He showed me his finished works and the ones he was still working on. I teased him about the female that looked a bit like me if I didn’t have wings, but he merely scoffed and continued with his tour. Ironically enough, that sculpture, along with a few smaller ones of animals, were what he wanted me to present to Rhiannon. 

“I never thought my work would be worth anything,” he shrugged, placing them carefully in the entrance hallway of the estate. I tried not to think of the blood that once stained these tiles before I was even born. “Is she _really_ an art dealer? Or is she some scam artist?”

“Trust me, I checked her out and she says who she says she is.” I learned from the best spymaster, after all. “We’ll just have to wait and see if your work sells.”

“That female talks for three sets of teeth,” Tamlin rolled his eyes. “I’m sure she’ll find a way to sell it.”

I burst into laughter. When I saw he didn’t look as amused as I did, I nudged him. “What’s wrong?”

“When Lucien was here, he pointed out that the Spring Court won’t survive this year if I don’t perform the Great Rite,” Tamlin’s throat bobbed. “I refused to do it last year so he took my place, but he thinks that’s why the land’s magic is so unstable; only the High Lord’s magic in the earth can keep it fertile for longer.”

“Calanmai is just around the corner,” I counted off the days in my head. “I think Lucien’s right; it may have something to do with why everything is dying so quickly.”

“I know he’s right; he’s always been much more in touch with these things than I ever was,” Tamlin sighed softly. “That’s why he was such a good emissary; I was nothing without him.”

“Don’t say that; it was a joint effort,” I told him gently. “Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses; his was politics and words, yours was maul now, questions later.”

Tamlin glared at me but there wasn’t rage in his eyes; it was amusement. A step in the right direction.

“You need a Maiden for the Great Rite,” I said. He immediately went rigid and his cheeks flushed bright red. I smirked teasingly, “Any ideas on who could step in?”

He coughed in discomfort and found the cracked tiles under his boots much more interesting to look at. I nudged him again, “Any ideas?”

“I don’t want to pressure you into this,” he began, his voice stiff. “I understand if you refuse; I will not force you to do something for a land that is not your own.”

“If you want to restore your court and fix your estate and see your mother’s rose garden bloom again, then this is necessary,” I said firmly. “Your people left because it became uninhabitable and because they turned away from you after your decisions in the war, but they can come back. This is their _home_ , as much as it is yours.”

Tamlin eyed me pointedly, trying to pick out any lies in me. I continued, “I love Velaris and I’d give my life for it. You’re right, the Spring Court isn’t my home, but it’s yours and to all those Fae that are now refugees in the Summer Court. It would be an honor to give them a chance at coming back home.”

Tamlin’s throat bobbed again, his back stiff and bone-straight. “You’re doing more for my court than I ever have. I won’t forget this.”

I smirked. “Oh, I’m sure you won’t.”

Tamlin blushed.

* * *

I returned to Velaris with Tamlin’s sculptures and went straight to Rhiannon’s office to drop them off. I opened the bond between us just in time to let Tamlin hear Rhiannon squeal in joy and take each and every one of the sculptures.

“Give me two weeks and they’ll all be sold!” she promised.

I approached Azriel and asked if I could have a few days off, strategically choosing the day Calanmai was on. The spymaster didn’t object and nodded his approval. Cassian; however, overheard my exchange and popped his head into the room. For someone who didn’t enjoy being in the House of Wind, he was here a lot.

“She’s going to visit her mysterious lover!” he sang mockingly. “Don’t tire him out too much—I don’t think he knows Illyrian females last longer in bed than the males.”

I couldn’t help but blush, something he was quick to see and laughed. “Naughty Meiri! I’m telling Rhys!”

I’d never been to a Calanmai ritual before. I knew of the ritual and what it did, but it wasn’t performed in the Solar Courts by the High Lord. Individual areas of the Solar Courts made bonfires, but the Great Rite was only performed in the Seasonal Courts, where their land was dependent on magic to remain stagnant in one season. It was required in order to produce crops for harvest and keep the magic stable. How would anything ever grow in the Winter Court otherwise? 

I didn’t really know what I would need for the Great Rite. Did I need to wear something specific? A certain color? A headpiece? Tamlin hadn’t specified so all I did was pack some comfortable clothes, go shopping for some food, and made sure I showered before I winnowed to the Spring Court.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I needed to calm down. The magic was taking hold of him, not me.

When I arrived on the estate grounds, I tugged on the bond to let Tamlin know I arrived. I initially thought he was inside, which surprised me when he suddenly winnowed at my side. I flared my wings when I jumped at the sudden noise.

“I scared the spy,” he joked awkwardly. “Nervous?”

“I thought you were inside,” I said, reaching into my bag and tossing him a wrapped cheese pastry. “Are there any preparations, or do we just...get into it?”

A rosy blush tinted his pointy ears. “I already made the preparations.” I raised my eyebrows to urge him to explain, “I arranged the firewood for the bonfire, I made the cave comfortable, and I scouted a stag—”

“A stag?”

“For the sacrifice,” he said, finishing the pastry. “It’s traditionally a white stag, but any will do. You don’t have to be there for it.”

I nodded slowly, thinking how archaic it all was. “That’s when the magic will take control of you?”

“After the sacrifice, yes.” Tamlin rolled his shoulders in discomfort. “It makes me lose my head, but I can still control myself somewhat. Please forgive me if I hurt you unintentionally.”

“Don’t worry; if I want you to stop, I’ll make sure to kick you where it hurts,” I joked, but he didn’t seem to take it that way. He looked more embarrassed than I was. While I made jokes to loosen up, he became serious and tense. I nudged him to snap him out of it, “I’m not fragile, Tamlin. Don’t worry about me.”

“I won’t touch your wings,” he blurted out. “Rhysand once told me touching a male’s wings is asking for a brawl, and touching a female’s wings is very inappropriate.”

For once Rhysand was honest, I thought bitterly. “Yes, but if you have permission, it’s not an issue.”

“I won’t touch your wings,” he shook his head. “I’m overstepping my boundaries as it is.”

“If you insist,” I shrugged. He looked very uncomfortable, so I changed the topic. “Is there anything specific I should do?”

“I’ll show you the cave, but I’ll be coming to you,” he said, his bright green eyes trailing over my body clad in thick Illyrian leather. “I also suggest you wear something more comfortable.”

“You mean  _ easily accessible _ .”

“I said  _ comfortable _ .”

“I brought a dress, don’t worry,” I smirked. He was incredibly easy to tease, and I was glad it didn’t enrage him as it would do before. He seemed to be taking it in stride—or perhaps he was just too embarrassed. “Do I wear undergarments?”

Tamlin sighed in exasperation which made me burst into laughter. 

* * *

At sundown, Tamlin left the estate to light the bonfire. I’d changed into a lilac sundress I rarely got to use and braided my dark hair loosely over my shoulder. I was trained as a spy and as a stealth fighter, but not as an Illyrian warrior. I never had any interest in fighting brutally like the males, and certainly had no desire to participate in the Blood Rite—not that they’d allow a female anyway. Still, I had my own version of Illyrian warrior tattoos: males traditionally have them over their chests and down their arms so I had mine inked onto the top of shoulders and down onto my upper back. They looked like black tendrils of darkness swirling, taking on intricate shapes that looked almost like leaves on a vine. 

I met Tamlin on the patio of the estate. He was shirtless, a bandolier of knives across his bare chest along with a sword on the belt of his trousers. His golden hair was loose over his broad shoulders. He looked much better than he did when I first met him: his muscles were starting to tone over his arms and chest and he was standing with much more confidence. Even his hair was shiny and healthy and his skin was an even, golden tan.

I would’ve kept staring dumbly if he hadn’t spoken. “Did you drink the tonic?”

I’d brought contraceptive brew from an apothecary in Velaris for the both of us. He’d drank his before leaving to light the bonfires and I’d drank mine before coming downstairs. I nodded my answer. 

He held out his hand to me. “Ready?”

I took his hand, warm and firm, and he winnowed us away deep into the woods of the Spring Court. The trees barely had any leaves on their branches and the grass beneath us was thin and crunched with our every step. I truly hoped this worked, or else I feared the Spring Court was doomed.

Tamlin seemed to be thinking the same thing; his expression was pinched in an eternal frown. He let go of my hand, pointing to where the bonfire was. “The sacred cave is just up ahead. I’ll make the sacrifice and I’ll see you there.”

“Don’t lose your way,” I teased. 

To my surprise, Tamlin gave his best attempt at a grin before heading out into the woods to sacrifice the stag. In the meantime, I strolled around the area. The bonfire was large with enough firewood to last the entire night. The sacred cave was decorated simply with whatever Tamlin managed to find—dried vines and small flowers. Inside the cave was lined with thick fur pelts that made me shiver in apprehension. 

I wasn’t exactly dreading tonight; I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The mere thought of having Tamlin touch my bare skin and hold me close and ravish me mindlessly was making my mind run wild and my blood run hot. 

I needed to calm down. The magic was taking hold of  _ him _ , not me.

The sun had fully disappeared into the horizon when I saw Tamlin’s silhouette appear on the path leading to the cave. I instinctively tucked in my wings, especially after seeing the absolutely feral look in his eyes when he finally stepped into the light of the bonfire. His bandolier of knives was gone and his chest was smeared with whirls of dark blue woad. From the smell of it, he’d used the stag’s blood to create the mixture. Most likely part of the ritual sacrifice.

He was now the Hunter, infused with dangerous and powerful magic that took hold of his mind, soul, and body. He was glowing with it. He stopped just a few feet away, his fists opening and closing as his eyes roamed over me. I playfully flared my wings, beating them forward to propel me back closer to the mouth of the cave.

The movement seemed to have awakened an animalistic part of him, making him growl and rush towards me. I curled my wings in just as he stopped in front of me, invading my personal space and taking my elbows in his hands. His grip was tight but not enough to hurt me. 

He growled something incoherently as he leaned down to press his face against my neck and inhale deeply. A shiver ran up and down my spine like a lightning bolt and before I knew it, he hauled me over his shoulder. Like he promised, he avoided my wings; he kept me anchored to his shoulder with an arm wrapped around the back of my thighs.

“Excuse you!” I cried playfully. “I’m not a sack of potatoes!”

He said nothing as he walked into the cave. Immediately, the magic inside exploded with such intensity, I whimpered. I’d never felt anything like this before—it made every instinct in my body stand at attention, my skin crawl from the raw power, and my ears ring. I’ve been in contact with the powers of High Lords, but this was something else entirely. This was the magic of the land itself with absolutely no damper, the land that gives High Lords their powers. 

Tamlin knelt down on the soft pelts and when he set me down in front of him, I was trembling. He must’ve smelled it on me; it wasn’t fear coursing through me. It was my body’s reaction to the enormity of the power inside him. I was his chosen one—the Maiden. I was bound to him and together, we’d release that suffocating power into the earth beneath us. It was exhilarating.

Tamlin ran both of his hands over his chest, covering them with that dark blue woad. He cupped my face very gently and ran his thumbs over my flushed cheeks to paint them. It was surprisingly warm. His eyes were still feral, still dark and wide and dangerous. I could see the magic flickering behind them, ready to explode at any second. 

He plunged in for a searing kiss, firm and demanding. I immediately wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pressing the length of my body against his. He growled into my mouth and pushed me onto my back, pinning me beneath him. I whimpered, shifting as I tried to spread my wings into a more comfortable position. Surprisingly, he noticed my discomfort and hauled me up and flush against his chest, anchoring me down to straddle his waist. There was no wiggle room for me; this is where he wanted me to stay. None of this was gentle; he was throttling me around like a ragdoll, gripping my waist tight and kissing me hard enough to bruise my lips.

He maneuvered me to his liking, kissing down my neck, making me melt against him. Like this is where I needed to be and where I should’ve been all this time. My body was screaming at me to take him all in and before I knew it, I was grabbing his strong jaw in my hands and bringing him in for a deep kiss. He growled in response and pulled me in tightly, his muscles flexing against me. I gasped when I felt his hands run under my dress, smearing my thighs with that blue paint, and running over my very bare hips.

“Surprise,” I giggled breathlessly. He merely silenced me with another kiss and began to unbutton his trousers. The last barrier between us.

When he was finally inside me, I gasped at the feeling. He grunted, pulling me against him tightly, before gripping my waist and snapping his hips. I whimpered with every one of his powerful thrusts, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. When I’d dig my fingernails into his skin, he’d growl in my ear and squeeze my rear. 

I let my wings fall behind me. I had no strength in me to keep them upright as a disciplined Illyrian warrior would. I was melting against Tamlin, our hips moving as if they had a mind of their own, our mouths meeting with kisses that left us gasping for air. It was too much; I didn’t know if it was the powerful magic taking hold of our bodies, or if it was the sensation of Tamlin’s relentless ravaging, but it was building up inside me. It was making me tremble and whimper and meet every one of his thrusts with my own. 

I came undone in his arms, but he didn’t stop. I was dizzy with euphoria, pressing my cheek against his forehead and smearing it with woad and sweat. My body was tingling as he continued to snap his hips against mine. He growled at the scent of me; he buried his face into my neck and inhaled deeply. I ran my fingers through his hair, unable to do anything else but ride out my pleasure as he chased his own. 

The magic within him seemed to burst all around us when he finally found his release. The groan that erupted from his chest rattled my bones and left us both shaking and panting. His hair was plastered to his cheeks, the blue woad all over his neck and shoulders thanks to me. My dress was no doubt ruined by that same stubborn paint, but I didn’t care. My body and his were humming the same tune, our rapid breaths in complete sync. I pressed my forehead against his, staring into his eyes as I watched that powerful magic slowly recede and bring out the lovely green in them again. He kneaded my hips gently, almost apologizing for the bruises that were no doubt forming under his palms.

The pelts were soft against me as he laid us down, our bodies warm from the bonfire roaring outside and the pleasure pulsing through our limbs. Our breathing was still in sync, our eyes refusing to break away from one another. We didn’t say a word. We only heard each other’s breaths slowly deepen, the exhaustion finally taking over and lulling us to sleep.

* * *

When my eyes fluttered open, the burnt smell of ashes lingered in the air and the brightness of the morning sun beamed through the mouth of the cave. I was on my belly; my preferred sleeping position. I pushed myself up on my elbows, wincing at the ache around my hips and my thighs. My wings hung limply behind me; I still had no will to hold them upright. My ears perked at the sound of...were those birds?

Tamlin was not at my side, but the shape on the pelts where he’d slept was still warm. It still smelled like him too; like fresh pine and crisp rain. When I heard footsteps, I raised my eyes and saw him approaching. He was still shirtless and his skin was still smeared with those dark blue whirls. In his arms were ripe peaches.

“Good morning,” he greeted me in a gentle whisper. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were twinkling with a happiness that made my stomach flutter. He dropped the peaches between us before holding one out and twisting it in both hands to pull it apart. The dark brown pit was right at the center and all around it was juicy orange flesh. The joy in his voice was intoxicating. “Look!”

I laughed incredulously. “That fast?” 

“Everything is blooming,” he said, giving me the seedless half of the peach. When I took a bite, my mouth exploded with the intense flavor. “I’ve never seen my court bloom like this since I became High Lord.”

He wasn’t exaggerating in the slightest. When we walked out of the cave, the forest around me was vibrant with green. Trees were lush and full of leaves and ripe fruit. The grass was soft against my bare feet, moist with dew and dotted with endless colors of wildflowers and weeds. Vines curled around the thick trunks of the trees, blooming with flowers. Birds were chirping in the trees, the soft breeze carrying the scent of sweetness and life, insects were buzzing and butterflies and bees hovering over fully bloomed flowers. The forest was wild and frenzied with life, fertile and bursting with the pollen of flowers. I chose to believe the stinging in my eyes and my sniffling were allergies.

“I think we did a fine job,” I nudged Tamlin with my arm playfully. The touch of our bare skin made me shiver. My voice was thankfully steady, “Don’t you?”

When he didn’t reply, I looked up at him. His eyes were wide with awe and glossed over with tears. He breathed out in a whisper, “A fine job, indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m in the ass-end of the world in a room with no fireplace and you’re enjoying a nice vacation in Adriata. Something’s not right here.

I was away on assignment with Azriel after Calanmai. Even after a hot bath and scrubbing, I could still smell Tamlin on my skin. I didn’t mind it; the smell of fresh pine and spring rain was soothing. But I knew Azriel picked up on it when I entered the House of Wind to report for duty. His eyebrows shot up on his forehead but immediately relaxed; anyone without keen attention to detail would’ve missed it. Thankfully, he said nothing on the matter which meant he assumed it was my supposed mystery lover and not the most scorned High Lord in Prythian. 

I was also thankful Cassian was off doing who knows what, Mor was handling matters within the Hewn City with Rhysand and Amren, and Feyre was painting in the riverside manor. I had to make sure to stay away from the High Lady; I doubt she’d forget Tamlin’s scent, especially with her heightened senses due to pregnancy.

I checked in with Tamlin on a regular basis. His mind was tranquil every time I lingered just outside the wall of thorns guarding it. I’d tell him stories and remind him of his duties. I knew he’d already grown into his daily routine, but I always felt the need to remind him. Very rarely did he tug on the bond anymore to call for me. His mind and spirit felt so light compared to the darkness that once suffocated me, and I prayed to the Mother it would be smooth sailing from here. He was in a good place now and seeing his court blooming certainly helped his morale.

When I returned to Velaris, there was a note on my door from Rhiannon telling me to swing by her office when I had the chance. I changed out of my Illyrian leathers and flew to the Rainbow. The female was in her office, every inch of the space covered with paintings and tapestries.

Rhiannon greeted me with a slip of paper. When I unfolded it, my jaw dropped. It was a receipt of sale. “You’re joking—”

“They were a hit! Just like I said they’d be!” she grinned devilishly. “I sold them for great prices, didn’t I?”

I’d say her customers were either ripped off or had too much money to spend—the amounts were through the roof! But Tamlin’s sculptures were indeed beautiful and very detailed, and they surely felt the prices Rhiannon gave them were reasonable for the quality. But then again, I knew nothing of art.

“I already have a few art connoisseurs that are interested,” she said, scribbling on a notepad. She was quickly making the calculations for Tamlin’s cut of the profits. “Does your artist friend have more?”

Tamlin tugged on the bond eagerly. I’d opened the bond for him to listen in. “Yes, he has more. I’ll deliver them to you as soon as I can.”

“Excellent!” Rhiannon handed me the bank note. I’ll have to go to the Bank of Velaris and withdraw this ridiculous amount—it was close to my biweekly salary, and Rhysand was very generous with his money. “Also, I suggest he signs his work so it’s easily identifiable.”

When I left Rhiannon’s office and withdrew the money from the Bank of Velaris, I stocked up on sandwiches and cheese pastries and winnowed to the Spring Court. When I arrived, Tamlin was on the steps of the estate waiting for me. 

This is the first time we’ve seen each other since Calanmai. He avoided my glance as I approached. His shoulders were tense and his hands were clasped behind his back. He was wearing a loose linen shirt and brown trousers with muddy boots. 

“I hope you’re not walking into the house with those dirty boots,” I joked, handing him a cheese pastry. He took it with a smile as I added, “I have your profits here with me.”

His eyes nearly popped out of his sockets when I handed him not one, but two bags of coins. They were heavy in his hands, the cords of muscle on his forearms prominent as he bounced them in his palms to weigh them. I had to look away.

“I don’t know what to say,” he trailed off. “We can split the profits between us—”

“Why? It’s  _ your  _ work.”

“But you’re my artistic emissary,” he joked with a crooked grin. “Otherwise, no one would buy my work if they knew I was the artist.”

“You owe me nothing, Tamlin,” I said, taking a seat on the steps. I began unwrapping a ham and cheese sandwich. “Now, eat your lunch and stop worrying.”

We ate in silence, the money bags sitting between us along with the sandwich and pastry wrappers. He’d winnowed a pitcher of fresh peach nectar from the kitchen he made that morning. It was absolutely delicious.

“Now there’s too many things to do,” Tamlin chuckled softly. “The trees are filled with fruit and berries and the land needs to be tilled and seeded and watered. I...” he trailed off, swishing the peach nectar in his glass. “I can’t do it alone.”

“And the estate still needs fixing too,” I looked over my shoulder at the front doors still missing the handles and the cracked tile floors, broken windows, and ruined walls that lay beyond. “Have you come up with any solutions?”

“None that are attainable.”

“Try me.”

Tamlin let out an amused scoff. “My first solution was to have my people come back home.”

“That’s difficult, but not unattainable,” I corrected. “Any other ideas?”

“No other court in their right mind will help me,” he said. “You’ve helped me, and I will be forever in your debt, but I doubt anyone will do the same.”

“Well, you’ll never know if you don’t try,” I looked up in thought. “You need to swallow your pride and ask for help—you can’t work your fields, harvest the crops, fix your estate, and rebuild the villages Hybern destroyed all on your own.”

“So who do I ask? Rhysand?”

“I said swallow your pride, not be a complete moron,” I joked lightly. “Start with your neighbors.”

“You’re the spy that knows everything,” he said playfully. I was starting to enjoy his lighter side, despite the seriousness of the topic. “You tell me what the political climate is. I’ve been isolated too long.”

“High Lord Kallias is too far from you and too cynical to see anyone at the moment,” I began. “High Lord Beron thinks you’re weak and doesn’t respect you as a High Lord.” I wanted to be very honest with him; politics sugar coated nothing for no one. Thankfully, his expression was focused as I continued, “Lastly, you have High Lord Tarquin, who, in my humble opinion, is your best bet.”

“Most of my people fled to his court,” Tamlin said. “But what are his thoughts of me?”

“He was willing to send his soldiers to protect your southern borders, but since you’d told Rhysand you wanted no one on your lands, he never sent any troops.”

“I remember.” Tamlin’s head dipped down, shame curling around him like a dark aura. “I suppose I’ve ruined any chances with Tarquin.”

“Don’t think that way,” I said, touching his arm to comfort him. He leaned into my touch and it made my ears burn up. I withdrew my hand quickly. “You said the same thing about Lucien and even though things were a bit rocky at the beginning, it all leveled out. Get in contact with Tarquin and ask him for help.”

After a brief moment of silence, Tamlin nodded slowly. “I will.”

* * *

Before I left that day, Tamlin wrote Tarquin a formal letter on special stationery used only by High Lords. He requested a personal meeting, one which Tamlin was willing to travel for, and specified that he wished to inquire upon his people in the Summer Court and about establishing relations again.

We also discussed the signature on his works. We brainstormed symbols and letters that would be recognizable but still be discrete and not give him away as the artist. We were at it for at least thirty minutes before I made a suggestion he liked.

“Who’s Vulcan?”

“In Illyria, he’s the god of blacksmiths and crafts; he forged the first Illyrian blade.”

He picked up his carving knife and elegantly signed the bottom of each sculpture with the name of the Illyrian god. It made my heart skip a beat.

I returned to Velaris with more sculptures for Rhiannon, who was thrilled to see them. When she turned over one of the smaller works, she nodded her approval. “Now  _ that’s _ a name I can sell!”

It was a few days when I felt Tamlin tug on the bond. I was getting ready to head to the Continent to meet up with some of our spies. I speared through the bond, walked through Tamlin’s mental shields with his permission, and peered through his eyes.

It was a letter from Tarquin accepting his request for a meeting and giving him formal permission to winnow directly into Adriata’s palace. The date of the meeting was for later in the week. 

_ I told you he’d hear you out. Tarquin’s a good male. _ When he tugged on the bond, I teased,  _ Don’t get jealous! Wear your best clothes and remember to bathe and brush your hair—  _

I laughed when he pushed me out of his head. 

* * *

The day of Tamlin’s meeting with Tarquin, I was still on duty in the Continent. I felt no maelstrom of darkness from his end of the bond nor did I feel a tug for help. It was quiet and calm, which both unsettled and relaxed me: a part of me was nervous for a possible negative reaction from Tarquin, but I was also content to see that even if the meeting was going terrible, Tamlin was holding his own. I chose to believe the meeting was going well.

When I settled for the evening at an inn located in the middle of nowhere, I tugged on the bond gently. Tamlin responded in like and gave me permission to enter his mind and see through his eyes.

To my genuine shock, Tamlin was on a balcony overlooking the city of Adriata at sunset. It was a beautiful sight; the turquoise waters painted with orange and yellow, the seagulls hovering over the pearly-white beaches, docks filled with sailboats and fishermen hauling over their day’s catch. 

_ I’m in the ass-end of the world in a room with no fireplace and you’re enjoying a nice vacation in Adriata. Something’s not right here. _

In response, Tamlin reached for a wine bottle inside an ice bucket and began pouring himself a glass. I rolled my eyes.  _ Everything went well?  _

Tamlin led me to his memory of his meeting with Tarquin.

He winnowed into Adriata’s palace and was greeted by Varian and Cresseida, prince and princess of Adriata. I’d never spoken personally to Cresseida, but Varian has been visiting Velaris regularly due to his budding relationship with Amren. 

Unsurprisingly, the siblings were stern and standoffish when Tamlin arrived and I felt his discomfort in their presence. They greeted each other curtly before leading him through the palace, walking through weaving corridors before finally arriving in a formal sitting room.

“Welcome to Adriata,” Tarquin greeted as Tamlin walked inside. The High Lord was dressed in light robes of blue and gold, his white hair braided neatly at the temples, and his deep blue eyes were both inviting and skeptical. It was understandable. “Please sit and my servants will bring refreshments.”

I was privy to Tamlin’s thoughts as he sat before Tarquin at the table, watching as servants served them cool drinks. He was suspicious of such generosity, but was also aware of Tarquin’s tense posture, of his cousins standing at the door with hands casually on their swords.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” Tamlin began. “I didn’t think I’d even get a response.”

“Well, if it were up to Varian and Cresseida, you wouldn’t have gotten one,” Tarquin said, gesturing at his cousins with his hands. They both frowned but said nothing. “But I was shocked to receive anything from you. No one has heard anything of you or your court since the war ended.”

“I had plenty of time to reflect upon my actions during the war. My people have taken refuge in your court and I wanted to thank you for taking them in and caring for them when I failed them as a High Lord. I wasn’t taking their livelihoods into account when I bargained with Hybern and even though...” Tamlin bit back the words; he wanted to say High Lady Feyre was responsible for sabotaging his image with his court, but refrained from doing so. It was a joint effort—both his and hers. “I simply wanted to thank you in person.”

“Your people have been well taken care of here; Cresseida has seen to it,” Tarquin said. “They are happy, but I’m sure they’d want to return home eventually. Those not from the Summer Court often find our climate a bit overbearing.”

“That would certainly be a nice thought.” Tamlin gave him a small smile. “But if they’re happy here, I wouldn’t want to force them to return.”

“That’s up to them. They are free to come and go as they wish.”

A moment of silence lingered between them. Tamlin’s mind had gone blank, forgetting his well-rehearsed list of topics for this meeting. Thankfully, Tarquin led the next conversation. “You stated in your letter that you desire to establish relations again?”

Tamlin immediately perked up. “Out of the Seasonal Courts, you are the most reasonable.”

“I appreciate the flattery,” Tarquin chuckled. He leaned back against his chair; a sign of comfort. “But I am also the youngest of the High Lords which means I have to be extra careful with my political dealings.”

Tamlin began, “My court is fertile and needs workers to till and seed the lands, to harvest the crops, to sell them and distribute them. My southern border is unguarded and I have no sentries. My estate is in ruins and needs repairs. The least of my concerns is having servants and courtiers to host luncheons for; my priority is to rebuild the villages and hopefully populate them. But I can’t do all of this alone.”

Tarquin listened intently, nodding occasionally. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you suggest, then?”

“I would appreciate it if you would be willing to send workers to my court to harvest and work the fields,” Tamlin said, his hands nervously trembling on his lap. “As High Lord, I have a reasonable fortune of jewels and gold I can use to convert as pay for these workers, and since I have no people to feed in my court, I can even give you what they harvest as long as you agree to give to my people first.” Tamlin took a deep breath, steadying his voice. “You may also send soldiers to guard my southern border; I’d refused before, but I see now that my stubbornness and pride was what made that decision for me.”

Tarquin stared at Tamlin, his blue eyes scanning him carefully, almost as if trying to pick apart any lies in him. Tamlin waited patiently, his fingers twiddling nervously. Then Tarquin turned his head towards his cousins.

“Prepare a room for Tamlin; he will be staying in Adriata for a few days,” he said. The prince and princess both raised their eyebrows in silent inquiry. “What we need to discuss and organize will take more than one meeting.”

When they left the room, Tarquin addressed Tamlin, “I do not agree with your decisions in the war; you betrayed us to our enemy all for a female you refused to let go. But you did help us in the end, and I fear that much of Prythian fails to see that sometimes one must fall in order to rise with greater strength.” Tarquin stood from his seat, prompting Tamlin to do the same. “I admire your courage for admitting your failures as a High Lord, something that our kind should do more often. I failed to protect my people when Adriata was attacked and I will live with that guilt for as long as I am High Lord.”

“But you stood by your people while I abandoned them.”

“I am a young High Lord; many of my courtiers believe I should not be in power, and that my ignorance was what brought on that attack in the first place,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Are they right? Possibly. But I learn from my mistakes, and it seems you have begun to do the same. Rest for today, and we will discuss this further in the next few days.”

_ Sometimes I think High Lord Tarquin is too good for our twisted world _ , I said as I pulled out of his memory.  _ Whoever marries him is one lucky female—or male. Whatever it is he prefers. I surely wouldn’t mind marrying him. _

He tugged at me in annoyance and I pushed him back.  _ Jealous again, are we?  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A thief in the night,” he teased me one evening. “But this one brings me bags of money and cheese pastries.”

When Tamlin returned from Adriata, I visited him in the Spring Court. Over lunch, he told me Tarquin agreed to send soldiers to guard the southern borders and workers to tend and harvest crops on the fields as well as assist with a full renovation of the estate. Payment for these services will be provided with a combination of trade and monetary loans which Tamlin can pay off over time. 

“Hopefully when things start coming together, your people will return,” I told him, patting him on the shoulder. He simply smiled. “And trust me when I say they will; I’m sure they miss their home and in all honesty, who wouldn’t want to live in such perfect weather?”

“You like it here?”

His question caught me by surprise. I felt my ears burn up. “It’s nice and warm; Velaris is always chilly except for a yearly heat wave that doesn’t last more than four days.”

Tamlin chuckled. “You’re welcomed to stay when you like, Meiri.”

It made my stomach flop to hear him say that. I was so caught up in the feeling, I only caught a portion of what he said, “Can you help me?”

“Help you with what?”

He was visibly uncomfortable. “I have one more room in the estate to clean.”

He said nothing more as he led me through the estate, up the stairs, and through a few corridors. We approached a closed door, oddly untouched by claws or any marks. He opened and closed his fists as he stood there, clearly agitated. I realized it even before he finally let out, “This used to be Feyre’s room.”

When he finally opened the door, I cringed at the utter disaster inside. There was absolutely no salvageable furniture, the floors and walls were shredded with claw marks, pieces of torn clothing were everywhere along with ripped sheets, feathers from pillows, broken glass, and enormous clumps of dust and debris. 

“I’ve been avoiding it for so long, I almost forgot about it—I suppose that was the point,” he said with a sigh. “But I need to stop avoiding it and move on.”

“Are you ready for it?”

“This is my last memory of how it was before—my last memory of _her_.” His head dipped down. “There’s no point in me holding onto the past.”

“I’m glad you’ve come to terms with it,” I said, eyeing the destroyed room again. This was the epicenter of his rage and grief. Seeing this again must be especially hard for him; he was once capable of such explosive emotions and could very well fall into them again if left unchecked. I reminded him of that. “You’ve worked hard to get to where you are. You’re not that male anymore.”

“I’m glad for it,” he said, smiling as he looked at me. “I owe you the world, Meiri.”

That was the second time he said my name with such fondness. I nodded towards the room, “Shall we get started?”

* * *

It was sundown by the time we finished the room. We moved out all the broken furniture into the corridor outside, then we began sweeping up the dust, feathers, glass, and wooden splinters on the floor. I gathered all the shredded clothing, sheets, and curtains into a sack while Tamlin hauled it out into the corridor along with the furniture. I began mopping the floors and Tamlin started on winnowing everything in the corridor to the front of the estate. 

“When will Tarquin’s aid arrive?” I asked, flexing my wings outside. He handed me a glass of fresh lemonade and I was almost disappointed our hands didn’t touch.

“His soldiers are starting to march south so they should arrive in a few days,” he said, drinking from his own glass. “The workers should arrive a bit after the soldiers get to the border.”

“I’m very proud of you, Tamlin,” I said, and I said it from the bottom of my heart. I suppressed a giggle when I saw his pointed ears go pink. “I’m glad you didn’t give up on finding that light.”

“I still think I have much to improve on and a lot more to settle,” he said with a tinge of sadness in his tone. He didn’t voice it, but I knew what was going through his head. He was thinking about Rhysand and his long feud with him over a misunderstanding and about all the harm he caused Feyre when she needed support. He added, “And with that High Lords’ meeting occurring soon...”

“I’ll be present, if that eases your nerves.”

“Mentally or physically?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll be there physically, but I can be with you mentally if you’d like.”

“As long as you’re there,” he said with a smile. The way he met my eyes made my heart skip a beat; I flexed my wings to keep myself together. I prayed he couldn’t smell my sudden uneasiness.

Tamlin took the empty glass of lemonade from me and watched in silent awe as I spread my wings and readied for flight. He suddenly said, “Tug on the bond when you get home.”

Why is he suddenly being so attentive? I shoved the thought away from my mind, nodded to him in response, and shot into the sky.

* * *

I was sorting through hundreds of reports with Azriel for the following days. Our network was keeping an eye on the Queens and on the human lands as requested by our High Lady. We had spies in Illyria reporting on any unrest in the war camps—most of them the girls, now fully grown, that I’d helped before I left the camp and were unsuspecting spies. We were also sending emissaries to each of the courts to confirm their attendance for the High Lords’ meeting in the Dawn Court following the Summer Solstice. 

We previously had no spies stationed in the Spring Court considering it would be a waste of resources on a male who was self-destructing. That’s why I never had any fear of anyone ever seeing me with Tamlin—his court was literally void of anyone, friend or foe. However, spies in Tarquin’s court soon began to report on Tamlin’s visit to Adriata and we received a detailed report on their agreements for rebuilding the Spring Court.

“We’ll have to send a few spies for good measure,” Azriel said. “I don’t believe he’s up to anything suspicious, but Rhysand will want full reports.”

“Or he could go and talk to him again,” I suggested.

Azriel shrugged. “He’ll decide when we present the paperwork to him.”

Rhysand decided we didn’t need to waste extra resources and simply suggested Azriel get one of our spies in the Summer Court to tag along with the workers Tarquin will be sending over. 

“It’s probably all for show,” Rhysand shrugged. “Why make negotiations now when the High Lords’ meeting is around the corner? He had the entire first half of the year to do it.”

I bit my tongue and simply stood there as Rhysand walked out of the room. Perhaps because you snapped the last two threads holding him together, perhaps because he was recovering from a darkness that required time and patience, perhaps because he was sorting through the guilt of having caused Feyre and Lucien and everyone close to him so much pain— 

“Meiri?” Azriel called out; his shadows were looming around his ears. Whispering to him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I said and stretched the tension out of my wings. I nodded towards the balcony. “Want to fly?”

Azriel never refused.

* * *

I would check in regularly with Tamlin, whether it was seeing through his eyes, reminding him of daily tasks, or telling him made-up stories of faraway lands. Due to the Fae now crowding his court, I told him it would be best if I stayed away—my wings were very distinctive and an Illyrian casually visiting the Spring Court will surely get reported. I omitted to tell him our spies were mixed in with Tarquin’s workers; there was no need for anyone to know that.

Tamlin often let me see through his eyes, showing me the renovations being made on the estate. The tiles were the first thing to get fixed, and then the walls were plastered evenly and given a new layer of paint. The gardens were beginning to look orderly and tended, the hedges trimmed into geometric shapes and the rose garden was in full bloom. Fruit was abundant and Tamlin often made fresh juice for the workers. The harvest was also very successful with every kind of vegetable imaginable. Animals were beginning to return en masse and Tamlin once tugged on the bond so I could see a doe with her two fawns grazing in the gardens of the estate. 

The happiness on Tamlin’s side of the bond was contagious. I often found myself smiling for no reason. I was relieved he was receiving more help from others and seeing the fruits of his efforts. It’s always difficult at first, but once you begin to see results, it all becomes much easier.

Tamlin’s sculptures were selling at outrageous prices and there wasn’t a single art collector in Velaris that didn’t want one. When Rhiannon would cut me a receipt for the profits, I’d go to the bank and withdraw the money, and then I would visit the Spring Court late at night.

“A thief in the night,” he teased me one evening. “But this one brings me bags of money and cheese pastries.”

I was really starting to enjoy his humor. Even in the dead of night with only moonlight pouring through the open window, he was glowing. His golden hair looked silky smooth and shiny, his eyes deep green and soft, and his skin smelled like lavender soap and fresh pine. Now that he was working every day in his estate and in the fields, riding and hunting regularly, his shoulders and arms were corded with thick muscle. The buttons on his doublets always looked like they were struggling.

Our spies reported nothing out of the ordinary in the Spring Court other than Tamlin becoming much more involved in the day to day activities. They recently began rebuilding the nearby village, starting with the homes first, and were aiming for the return of his people.

“Well, at least he’s doing something productive,” Rhysand said, one hand in his pocket and the other holding the report. Azriel and I stood before him in his very grand study in their new estate by the Sidra. There were still more renovations to be made, but Rhysand and Feyre said they’d be done by the time the baby was born. 

“He also confirmed his attendance for the High Lords’ meeting,” Azriel said. “His letter is in the report as well.”

“Let’s hope this meeting isn’t as disastrous as the first,” Rhys flashed a grin, closing the book of reports and strolling over to his desk. “Every High Lord will be there; we’re only missing Helion’s confirmation, but he’s always been fashionably late.”

As Rhysand organized his desk, I noticed two very peculiar bookends shaped like wolves. I pointed them out, trying to resist the burning rising to my ears, “Where’d you get those bookends?”

“Oh, these? They were ridiculously pricey,” Rhysand said, tapping one of the wolves on the head with his finger. “But Feyre loved them the moment she saw them in the Rainbow. They’re by some new artist I can only assume is Illyrian.”

“Illyrians aren’t artists,” Azriel pointed out coolly. 

Rhysand held onto the books with one hand as he flipped over the bookend to show us the signature at the bottom. “Who else but an Illyrian would call themselves _Vulcan_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is Helion drunk?” Cassian whispered to me and Azriel. The latter nodded, his shadows whispering around his ears. I bit my lip to keep my laughter at bay. 

It was early morning when we all met up in the House of Wind. Azriel, Cassian, and I were dressed in our Illyrian leathers. They each brandished their seven Siphons, Azriel’s blue and Cassian’s red, while my single yellow Siphon glowed on my right wrist. Mor was dressed in a lovely red dress with a modest neckline but a very revealing slit on the skirts that went all the way up to her upper thigh, and wore golden bracelets on each wrist and matching earrings. Our High Lord and Lady were dressed in unison: black trimmed in silver. Rhysand wore diamond cufflinks and Feyre wore a diadem of diamonds and sapphires. 

Amren was staying behind to guard the city and nearly sent Cassian over a balcony when he teased her about Varian. The Prince of Adriata was to be present at the meeting and would therefore spend even more time away from her. I found it endearing how attached Amren has become to the prince.

We all winnowed to the reception hall of the sunstone palace in the clouds. It hadn’t changed much: gilded domes and arches connected various areas of the palace and vines of blooming periwinkles decorated pillars from top to bottom. My breath was taken away by the beautiful rising sun over the endless puffy clouds on the horizon; I had almost forgotten how stunning it was here. 

We were approached by a Peregryn guard that greeted us kindly and led us to the meeting area. It wasn’t the same meeting area from the first meeting—I wasn’t present that time, but I remember Cassian mentioning a small pond with brightly colored fish. This meeting room was surrounded by airy verandas overlooking the beauty of the Dawn Court’s mountains, decorated with garlands of flowers. Comfortable chairs were provided for all attendees arranged in a circle, and for our court, there were seats to accommodate our wings. 

High Lord Thesan was first to greet us, glowing in that way he always did. He wore robes of soft rose, his long hair flowing in the breeze. He smiled upon seeing me and extended his arms to receive my embrace. Rhysand taught me to control my daemati powers, but it was Thesan who showed me all I knew about healing. 

“Please take your seats and servants will attend to you,” he said, his voice rich and deep. “The others should be arriving shortly.”

As promised, the other courts began arriving with their entourages shortly after us. The Winter Court appeared at the door first, and Mor and Vivianne squealed at seeing each other again as Kallias shared simple greetings with Rhysand before taking his seat. Next was the Autumn Court; High Lord Beron arrived with his wife and his four sons, among them Eris. They greeted no one and took their seats. The Summer Court arrived with High Lord Tarquin flanked by Prince Varian and Princess Cresseida. Varian approached us, greeting us and asking of Amren, before joining his High Lord.

 _Being fashionably late, are we?_ I teased down the bond. _Helion has competition._

There was a playful tug from his end, much closer than I anticipated. He was already in the palace and was most likely getting led to the meeting area by a Peregryn guard.

Thesan’s deep voice spoke up from the entrance. “Welcome, Tamlin.”

The entire room glanced over at the High Lord of Spring standing at the gilded doorway. He was dressed very sharply in a green doublet trimmed in gold over a crisp white shirt, the sleeves poking out just a bit from the cuffs, and wore dark brown riding trousers and polished boots. His hair was billowing over his very broad shoulders, shining against the rays of light pouring into the room. His bright green eyes scanned the room, no doubt realizing everyone was looking at him, watching his every move with scrutiny. When his eyes trailed over to my court, they widened like saucers. His jaw slacked and his tanned skin paled.

“Tamlin—” Thesan began, startled by Tamlin’s sudden change in demeanor. He reached for him, as did the Peregryn guard, but Tamlin recoiled. He accidentally elbowed a servant carrying glasses of refreshments, making them shatter on the sunstone tiles. 

Without a word, Tamlin rushed out into the corridor, leaving everyone speechless. Feyre turned and spoke soft enough for only us to hear, “Does he know I’m pregnant?”

My stomach dropped to the center of the mountain this palace was on as a sudden chill ran through my bones. I’d completely forgotten he didn’t know, that I didn’t tell him out of fear he’d break down. 

When Azriel told her it was unlikely considering his isolation, she sighed softly, “He can’t stand the thought of me being pregnant with a child that’s not his.”

 _Tamlin!_ I shot down the bond, but it echoed right back to me. When I speared through, I was met with a thick wall of thorns. I asked for permission, but my response was getting shoved out.

He was angry. He was absolutely _furious._

“Welcome, Helion,” Thesan greeted the High Lord of Day. Handsome and charming as usual, Helion was dressed in a white robe held together with belts of gold. His smirk lit up the entire room as he strolled inside and sat down right next to Rhysand.

“Looking stunning, High Lord and Lady,” Helion said by way of greeting. He winked at Mor, who blew a playful kiss, and then he did the same to me. “It’s been a while, Meiri darling. Still unmarried?”

“Fortunately for you, I suppose,” I joked, though my heart was still beating with dread. I felt Azriel's eyes on me, but I assumed he thought Helion was making me jumpy. I’m acquainted with the High Lord of Day through various court functions over the years. He’s always taken a rather keen interest in me since he’s never bedded an Illyrian female—we are virtually nonexistent outside Illyria’s war camps. He’s always flirting playfully and trying to lure me into his bed, but I dodge his every advance. Mor has told me he’s quite fun, and while I do find his antics amusing and respect his wisdom and power as a High Lord, I’m not a check on someone’s to-do list. 

“You and Mor together would be a treat,” Helion chuckled. “Interested?”

“Keep it in your robes, Helion,” Rhysand laughed. “I don’t want my child hearing your vulgarities.”

At that moment, Tamlin entered the room again. He apologized to Thesan in a hushed tone before making his way to his seat; the only seat set out for the Spring Court. It was obvious he was avoiding looking our way. I knew his body language, and I’d seen enough of his rage to know when it was coming. His expression was neutral, calm even, but his eyebrows were pinched and his muscles tense underneath his clothes. Even his leg was jumping up and down.

He was _livid._

Thesan began the meeting by thanking everyone for coming before going into what would be discussed in these yearly gatherings they hoped would become a tradition among the courts. This was a way for the High Lords to discuss topics freely, be transparent, and give updates on their rebuilding efforts. It was a way to open communications in Prythian.

And so, the meeting went on with each High Lord listing off their progress and their prospects for the following year. Some were short and to-the-point like Beron, Kallias, and Thesan. Helion was in a surprisingly cheerful mood and was quite lighthearted about his recovery from the war. Rhysand was truthful about the status of Velaris and the Illyrian war camps. Tarquin went on about his rebuilding of Adriata and, along with Tamlin, spoke of their meeting earlier in the summer.

“I have sent soldiers to the southern border to help guard it from potential invaders or spies,” Tarquin said, eyeing Tamlin who nodded in agreement. The latter hadn’t looked our way since this meeting began. “I have also sent agricultural workers to tend and harvest his fields—they’re producing a substantial amount of crops.”

“How is that possible?” Rhysand asked, leaning on his chair casually with a hand thrown over the backrest of Feyre’s chair. I could tell it took considerable effort for Tamlin to look over. “I visited you just after the Winter Solstice and your land was dying.”

“It’s the Spring Court,” Tamlin replied simply. “It always comes back to life.”

“If you perform the Great Rite,” Beron chimed in. “You Solar Courts know nothing about it, but the High Lords of the Seasonal Courts must take part or else our magic runs amok and nothing grows.” Beron pointed his chin at Tamlin. “That’s what you did.”

“Who—” Rhysand began, but cut himself off. “Nevermind.” 

“Oh, what a pity!” Helion said in feigned exasperation. “I wish I had to perform the Great Rite in my court—it seems like such an exciting concept!”

“You _would_ find it intriguing,” Beron scoffed. “You mount anything that moves.”

“Careful, Beron,” Helion pointed his wine glass at him. The Lady of Autumn shifted in discomfort. “You have heirs, but I have none—which reminds me, I need to get on that immediately.”

“Does this _have_ to be a topic of discussion?” Tarquin asked, smiling crookedly. He looked both embarrassed and amused by the sudden turn this meeting took. “Seems hardly appropriate.”

“Of course! You should be thinking about this as well!” Helion said. “I almost _died_ in that war against Hybern and I have no heirs to pass on my power to! Beron doesn’t care—he has five sons! Rhysand has a bundle of joy on the way and—Kallias!” He pointed his wine glass at the High Lord of Winter. “When are you having heirs?”

“Well, he’s certainly trying,” Vivianne joked lightly, making her husband and mate cough awkwardly. 

“Is Helion drunk?” Cassian whispered to me and Azriel. The latter nodded, his shadows whispering around his ears. I bit my lip to keep my laughter at bay. 

“I don’t know what you’re going to do, Thesan, though I certainly don’t blame your choices,” Helion looked over the Peregryn captain flanking his High Lord in appreciation. He then leaned back on his chair, his eyes darting around the room as his lips curled up in a sultry smirk. His gaze landed on me, then at my wings, and then back at me.

“Meiri!” Helion called out. “Illyrians are as fierce in battle as they are in bed! We’d produce a stunning heir! I promise it’ll be fun—”

The growl that erupted from Tamlin made the room tremble. All the High Lords stood defensively, shocked by the sudden outburst as they watched Tamlin cross the room in seconds and stand face to face with Helion. His talons were fully out, his teeth, sharp like fangs, bared. Helion merely stared back in surprise, having sobered the moment he sprung from his seat to face Tamlin.

“We are not here to proposition the females, or discuss ridiculous topics.” Tamlin slapped the wine glass out of Helion’s hand, making it shatter on the floor and wine spill over the tiles. Rhysand inched closer to Feyre, spreading his wings to protect her by any means necessary.

The silence was suffocating. 

My heart wanted to burst from my chest. His mind was still blocked off to me and completely rigid—just how it was when he had his outburst following Lucien’s initial visit. I’d never seen him act so erratic; I was almost positive he’d learned to reel in his anger and calm it down before it tipped over. Was Feyre’s presence making him act this way? He hasn’t seen her in a long time, and seeing her again was snapping at his fury. Or was he projecting his anger from my omission of her pregnancy onto Helion?

The tension in the room only lasted a few seconds. Helion raised his hands up in innocence, his expression now serious and his eyes firm as he said, “I apologize. I had no idea.”

“Sit down, Tamlin,” Rhysand snarled. “There’s no need to make a spectacle of yourself again.”

Tamlin’s claws receded back into his knuckles as he turned and took his seat. As all the High Lords lowered into their chairs again, Rhysand turned to Feyre, “Are you okay?”

Rubbing her very swollen belly, Feyre nodded. Her cheeks were a bit flushed from the sudden fright, but there was no harm done. I felt like my heart was going to explode.

The meeting went on tensely after that, but thankfully, there were no additional topics to discuss. As the host of the gathering, Thesan stood from his seat and produced a raw chunk of crystal from a pocket between the realms. “This is a projection stone we will use to determine the location of the High Lords’ meeting next year.”

He placed the crystal in the center of the room and it began to glow on its own. It sensed the powers of the High Lords around it, flashing the colors of each court: Night Court black, Day Court gold, Dawn Court pink, Winter Court white, Autumn Court orange, Summer Court blue, and Spring Court green. It spiraled through the colors like a prism, rapidly at first before slowing down until it finally stopped on a single color.

Green.

“My court will be rebuilt and populated by the summer of next year,” Tamlin said, his voice gruff and exhausted. “I can host the meeting—that is, if everyone agrees to attend.”

The room was quiet, and I almost whimpered. No one wanted to visit the Spring Court, as if no one believed the progress Tamlin was making. I was a bit upset by his outburst earlier, almost frightened it would be another setback, but he seemed to reel it in before it became explosive.

“I’ll be attending,” Tarquin said confidently. Still, no one else chimed in until Helion raised his new wine glass.

“I’ll see you there, Tamlin,” he grinned. “It’s been a while since I’ve visited Spring.”

One by one, the High Lords agreed: Thesan, Rhysand, Kallias, and lastly, Beron. 

The meeting wrapped up and everyone made their way to the gilded balconies all around the room to begin winnowing home. I suppressed the urge to approach Tamlin; I still couldn’t spear down the bond to reach him and it utterly terrified me. He seemed calm enough as he approached an empty balcony and winnowed away. 

He hadn’t looked at me the entire meeting, and that shattered my heart to pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next words out of my mouth left me with little thought, “Were you using me?”

Tamlin had shut me out completely. Even in the days following the meeting, I couldn’t speak with him, I couldn’t tug on the bond, I couldn’t even feel anything on his side. I’d become so accustomed to his presence on the other end of our bond, my mind felt hollow with his absence. It was unsettling, and it filled me with dread with every passing day.

I’d passed by Rhiannon’s on my first day off since the meeting to pick up her receipt of profits. She told me to bring her more pieces if he had them; she had a few interested buyers in the Continent. I tried my best to smile. After withdrawing the funds and buying some cheese pastries, I waited until nightfall before shooting into the skies and winnowing when I was out of the city limits.

I really hoped the estate was still intact. I hoped he didn’t expel the workers from his court. I hoped he hadn’t hurled himself into that darkness again. I couldn’t get a sense of him from his end; he’s effectively sealed me off. As if he doesn’t want me in his head.

When I arrived on the estate, it was all in pristine condition. The doors, now with golden knobs, were intact. When I entered the estate silently, the tiles were shiny and new. I kept to the shadows as I walked through the corridors, the flickering light of candles my only guide through the darkness. I tried tugging on the bond again to let him know I was here, but it was stiff as a board. 

It was late, so he could only be in two places: sleeping, or working on his sculptures in the gallery. I opted to check for the latter first. 

I was relieved to see flickering candlelight beaming underneath the doors of the gallery. Holding his profits and pastries close to my chest, I tucked in my wings and pushed open the door. 

He was sitting on a stool with a carving knife in one hand, working on a sculpture of a High Fae female playing a violin. His golden hair was thrown up into a ponytail, his eyes dark and focused on his work. He wore a loose-fitting shirt rolled up to his sleeves, exposing the tattoo of our bond, worn-in trousers and leather boots. He looked like a stereotypical artist.

I did nothing to conceal my footsteps as I walked inside. He immediately lifted his head, his eyes narrowing at the sight of me. He didn’t seem surprised to see me, but his movements were erratic: he dropped his chisel and stood from his stool in one swift motion. I swore I saw him shiver. “What are you doing here?”

“Your profits,” I said, holding up the bag. “And—”

“Right,” he cut me off, avoiding my glance. “I’d forgotten. You can set it on the table.”

I clenched my jaw at the firmness of his tone, as if he was speaking to a stranger. I shifted on my feet, finding the sudden tension between us foreign and unnerving. Even when I first encountered him, I didn’t feel this overwhelming detachment.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I blurted out. “I didn’t want to tell you because it was so early in your recovery; I didn’t want to set you back—”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, cutting me off yet again as if he didn’t want to hear the sound of my voice. As if it irked him to listen to me ramble out an apology.

“I didn’t tell you Feyre was pregnant,” I said. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. It must’ve been a shock when you saw her and why you were so agitated the entire meeting. I should’ve told you.”

He frowned at me, his eyes scanning my face as if looking for any lies. He finally said, “I controlled myself.”

“But with Helion—”

“That was a slip-up,” he growled viciously. I swore I saw a flash of talons on his knuckles. “He annoyed me—he always has.”

“Why have you been blocking me out, then?” I asked, taking steps towards him. He stayed rooted in his spot, but I saw his muscles tighten and his posture turn...defensive? I went on, “I was worried, Tamlin. I thought you were angry, or might’ve—”

“Destroyed my estate? No.” The flickering light outlined his sharp features beautifully, elongated his pointed ears, and made his hair shine like spun gold. It almost entranced me. “I’m beyond that now.”

He was angry. His fists were clenched, his posture menacing and his teeth bared. He looked like a beast ready to tear me apart if I made any sudden movements. I felt my eyes burn, “Why are you acting this way?”

“I have a lot on my mind, Meiri.”

Even my name sounded forced on his tongue. Not like how he’d said it with such sweetness the last time we spoke. I blinked harshly, trying to will away my tears.

“There’s no need to be worried for me anymore,” he said. “I’m fine now, and I have to focus on my court. I don’t...” His voice faltered as his green eyes hardened with what I assumed was silent rage. My heart sank when he held out his tattooed arm. “I don’t require the bond anymore.”

“You want to call off the deal?” I asked in a whisper. 

“Yes.”

I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore; they streamed down my cheeks. Normally, I would be questioning this sudden change in behavior. I would probably even be furious with his standoffish tone. But my mind was running blank, the shock from his words and the hurt with his inexplicable fury making me fall silent. 

I felt helpless. I could argue with him, but if the deal reached an impasse, why force it upon him? If he wanted an out, why deny it to him?

I held up my arm, stamped with the tattoo of our bond, and whispered silent words, “The terms of our bargain have been fulfilled. It is hereafter nullified and no longer subject to the binding of minds and souls.”

I inhaled sharply when I saw my tattoo disappear from my skin, the bridge that once existed in the crevices of my mind receding into darkness until I could no longer reach it. The black whirls around Tamlin’s arm also lightened and disappeared, leaving nothing but tanned skin flecked with scars from old battles.

“Thank you, Meiri,” Tamlin said, rubbing the inside of his forearm with his hand. 

“I suppose I’m not welcome in this court any longer?” I said, my tears making my voice waver. “I recall you telling me—”

“I remember,” Tamlin cut me off again, and it was like a stab to the gut. “You helped me recover, and I will be eternally grateful, but we’ve reached an impasse. I don’t believe our courts will ever get along—”

“When has this  _ ever _ been about our courts?” I raised my voice, my anger flaring up. 

“Your loyalty is to Rhysand and Feyre, not to me.”

“Loyalty? Rhys and Feyre hate you so much, they’d probably consider my actions treason!”

Tamlin clenched his strong jaw as his fingers flexed with agitation. I continued furiously, “I thought you wanted to give Rhysand closure and confront Feyre to apologize—”

“I have nothing to say to them; it’ll be pointless anyway,” he said. “You said it yourself: they hate me.”

“Forgiveness is a choice, but the truth is the truth.” I was trembling with rage. “Feyre can choose not to accept your apologies, but Rhysand can’t deny what really happened the day his mother and sister died. You both deserve closure.”

Tamlin shook his head. I wanted to slam him onto the floor and punch him until my fists bled, but that’d be stupid. I couldn’t possibly win against him. So I only fumed.

“If this conversation is over, I’d like to return to my work,” Tamlin said, gesturing at the sculpture behind him.

“Oh, so I suppose you’ll be shipping them all to Rhiannon personally? Traveling to Velaris with your outstanding relationship with the Night Court and telling everyone you named yourself after an Illyrian god?”

“I don’t need Rhiannon either,” he said plainly. “I can sell these to Tarquin now.” 

I couldn’t think straight. His simplistic answers were boiling my blood and making me see in swatches of red. There was no explanation to this sudden shift in behavior. Did seeing Feyre trigger something in him? Did seeing me with my court make him think I was untrustworthy?

The next words out of my mouth left me with little thought, “Were you using me?”

I stared at Tamlin, meeting his eyes fiercely as my question floated around us. The coldness in his eyes sent dread into my very bones. I felt so small under his gaze. 

“Yes,” he finally said. 

I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to double over and vomit, to scream and cry and tear everything apart. Perhaps Rhysand was right; there was no fixing Tamlin and there was no way to change him. He saw an opportunity in my sympathy, used me to find his way again, and even managed to have my body. 

“Take your money and your cheese pastries,” I held out the bag to him. “It’s the last time you’ll get them.”

“Leave the money,” he said. Again, his voice was tight, like he was forcing himself to speak to me. “Take the pastries with you.”

“Burn in Hell, Tamlin,” I spat. I dropped the bag down on the floor. I wanted to say more, but my throat was burning. I was a whirlwind of grief, of shame, of utter disgust and worthlessness. I simply turned around and walked out of the gallery, through the corridors, and out through the front door. I spread my wings and shot into the air. Before I winnowed, I swore I heard a bloodcurdling roar in the distance. 

* * *

When I returned to Velaris, I stormed through my apartment and hurled myself into bed. I cried until my head was pounding and my face felt swollen. I felt myself drift off into a fitful sleep as the sun was rising over the city. When I awoke naturally with the afternoon sun beaming through my window, I didn’t get out of bed. My stomach began to growl some time later, but I ignored it. 

I heard knocking on my door, but I didn’t get up. Then I heard yelling outside—it sounded like Cassian—but I didn’t respond. As I laid there on my bed underneath the covers, I saw curling shadows looming around my bedroom like translucent smoke before disappearing entirely.

_ What’s wrong, Meiri?  _

Rhysand touched my mind soothingly, remaining right outside my defensive walls. I responded to him quickly with what I knew would make any male tuck tail and run.  _ I’m bleeding. _

It was only until I heard a splintering crash from deep in my apartment that I realized that I’d somehow lost my ability to lie. 

“What the hell—” Mor was first to stomp into my bedroom, and when she saw the state I was in, she immediately guessed it. “That piece of shit dumped you, didn’t he?”

I suppose one could call it that so I gave her a half shrug. Mor let out a groan and dashed out of the room. I heard her whispering somewhere in the apartment, telling me she wasn’t the only one who broke down my door. 

I appreciated their worry, but I desperately wanted to be left alone.

Mor had none of it. She came into the room again, pulled the covers down to my waist, and smoothed down my hair. “Let’s get you some food and a bath. Don’t mope around for some asshole.”

She tried to get me to talk, to tell her what happened. I insisted I didn’t want to talk about it, that it wasn’t worth it, and burst into tears in the process. I wanted to be angry, but it all just manifested into grief. Just remembering how worthless I looked in his eyes made me crumble. Mor held me, soothing me with kind words and very detailed descriptions of what she’d do if she knew who this male was. 

“Azriel said you’ve been acting weird lately,” she pointed out. “But he wanted to stay out of it.”

“Tell him not to feel guilty,” I said, knowing Azriel’s tendency to blame himself. “It’s not his fault, and there wasn’t anything he could do.”

“We should’ve realized something was wrong, too.”

“Don’t feel bad, Mor. We all have our lives outside of work.”

“But you’re family. The moment Rhys took you in, you could always count on us.”

Footsteps made our heads perk up towards the door. Rhysand stood tensely, as if embarrassed to have walked in so abruptly. He was out of breath and his hair was tousled.

“I just returned from the Dawn Court,” he said. “I spoke to Thesan and he said you can spend whatever time you need over there. Does that sound good?”

“That’s not necessary, Rhys.” My heart burst with appreciation. “Just give me a few days—”

“I won’t allow it.” Azriel walked in from behind Rhysand, his shadows looming around like tendrils. “You’re grieving. I don’t want you working like this.”

“I’m not grieving,” I insisted. “I’m just angry and frustrated and…”  _ Utterly betrayed _ . “It’ll go away. I can still work—”

“This is an order,” Rhysand said firmly. “You’ve been working hard lately; take some time for yourself.”

I looked between Mor, Rhys, and Azriel. Anger was still simmering within me, but this feeling of betrayal was draining me. I couldn’t stand to look at the wooden statue of me in the living room. I’d thought of chucking it out the window, of smashing it to bits with a blast from my Siphon. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’d grown attached to it.

I must’ve been brooding silently for a while because Rhys cleared his throat to catch my attention. 

“Give us a name, and Cassian will return with this asshole’s teeth in a jar,” Rhys attempted a joke. I let out a light scoff, imagining how eager they’d be to pummel Tamlin to a pulp. “He’s right outside; he’s pretty pissed so he didn’t want to overwhelm you in here. Amren’s also outside with him, though her suggestion was murder.”

* * *

High Lord Thesan was very welcoming. He had servants serve me tea and comfort foods. His Peregryn guards took me on flights around the countryside. When I was calm enough to talk, he wouldn’t push me for answers. He would simply listen to me as I told him I felt stupid and used and disgusted with myself.

“Did you fall in love?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I shouldn’t have even approached him that day in the woods, I thought. I should’ve left him there to bleed out. But I didn’t say that for obvious reasons. “I got attached—”

“A strong friendship, then?”

I shrugged, my cheeks heating up from Thesan’s insinuation. I had a soft spot for Tamlin, I’ll admit that. I loved to tease him. I looked forward to pushing his buttons and telling him stories and seeing him slowly find the light in his darkness. But was that love?

“Betrayal can cut very deeply, especially if you were  _ attached, _ ” Thesan said, his emphasis giving an underlying meaning to his words. “It will manifest as anger with occasional bouts of grief.”

“Is there a way to block this out?” I asked. “I’ve tried to look into my own mind, but I can’t—”

“It’s a temporary fix, and you know that. I taught you that.” Thesan touched my arm gently. “You will see the light at the end of this darkness; you only have to find it.”

I sighed sadly at hearing the words I’d spoken to Tamlin what seemed a lifetime ago. It ripped me apart. Thesan soothed me with his magic, calming my nerves with the warmth of his power. 

“This has to do with your friend from the letter you’d sent to me, doesn’t it?”

How Thesan came to this conclusion, I had no idea. 

My silence seemed to answer his question. He smoothed down my hair like a caring father would. “Get some rest, Meiri. Everything will soon fall into place.”

I only nodded dumbly, too overwhelmed to look that far ahead. When he left the room, I flared my wings and went flying over the Dawn Court’s countryside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, quite the opposite.” I said with a smile. “It means you’ve given thought to a future with me, and it’s the first time in a long time that you’ve thought so far ahead.”

As the court’s name suggested, sunrises were breathtaking in the Dawn Court. The skies were painted in rosey pink and orange, puffy white clouds floating lazily and reflecting the bright rays of the sun to create a stunning halo over the land. I’d wake up ridiculously early just to see the sunrise from my balcony, sipping on warm tea the servants would bring me. They knew I rose early when I visited this court—it was a shame not to.

I dressed in a breezy blouse and a long skirt. I walked through the sunstone halls, servants bowing their heads in greeting and Peregryn guards stepping aside to let me pass before continuing on their way.

I usually ate breakfast in my room unless Thesan asked me to join him in the main hall. He didn’t ask for me this morning, but he did send a note with my breakfast. 

_Join me for tea in the west wing library in the afternoon._

My frustration had withered away with every passing day and it no longer enraged me to think of Tamlin’s behavior towards me—it disappointed me, but didn’t anger me. Thesan rarely asked me how I felt about my mystery friend now; afternoon tea with him were quiet affairs filled with casual talk about healing techniques and new discoveries he’s made with magic. I would sometimes probe him about his Peregryn lover simply to tease him, and it’d only draw a small smirk from him before he’d switch the topic. 

I was in the library before Thesan. Servants came in and prepared the tea with some biscuits and sweets before leaving the room. The library was small in comparison to the others in his palace; it had a circular design with two floors and a ledge carved in sunstone. Books of healing magic and other medical manuals lined the mahogany shelves neatly. The leather-bound covers were even color coded.

I was nibbling on a biscuit absentmindedly when I heard the library doors creak open and footsteps echoing throughout the room. I was wiping my mouth of crumbs as voices rose from the entrance.

“High Lord Thesan will arrive shortly.”

“Thank you.”

I felt my stomach flop and my skin go cold. My ears thrummed with the sound of my rapid heartbeat, my limbs frozen as I watched Tamlin turn the corner and step into the sitting area. He stopped abruptly, his green eyes wide as saucers and his muscles tense underneath his olive-toned doublet. 

We simply stared at each other, the shock rendering us speechless and motionless. Time almost seemed to go slower. Tamlin was first to look away, preferring to stare at leatherbound books than at me. He said in a tight voice, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here on vacation.”

Tamlin growled and looked over his shoulder, probably scouting any exits he could take. The only one in this library was the entrance he walked through and a door on the upstairs floor. One of the first rules Illyrians are taught is to find all exits wherever you are—it’s second-nature to me. 

“Thesan invited me here,” Tamlin grunted out. He’d pivoted slightly, giving me a view of his shoulder and his very muscled arm. I rolled my eyes at the sight, annoyed with myself for gawking. “He said he wanted to negotiate trade agreements.”

I frowned in confusion. Thesan had not mentioned he wanted to negotiate with Tamlin, which made sense—we were good friends, but he was still a High Lord and would not speak to me about his court affairs. But he sent me a note specifically asking me to join him for afternoon tea in the west wing library. If he was meeting Tamlin at this hour, why would he ask for my presence here? Thesan was anything but sloppy.

“Oh,” I let out stupidly as it all hit me like a sack of bricks. _He knows._

“Oh?” Tamlin snarled. His fists were clenched as if he were ready to fight. 

I sighed heavily, thinking of the best way to put all this without having Tamlin explode with the anger boiling up in him. His presence here was unnerving after his cold dismissal of me in his court, and having him look at me as if he wanted to rip me apart made my chest ache. Why did he hate me so much so suddenly?

“Earlier in the year, I sent Thesan a letter asking for advice about a friend I was helping,” I began, rolling the fabric of my skirt between my fingers. “I didn’t mention your name or anything that might’ve suggested it was you, but he must’ve guessed it.”

“How the hell could he have come to that conclusion?” he asked. “And that doesn’t explain why I’m in here with _you._ ”

“I owe you no explanations, so I suggest you mind your tongue,” I snapped. Tamlin visibly tensed and looked away. I continued, “During my time here, he asked me about how my mysterious friend’s condition was doing and I told him he started acting like an asshole and said he didn’t want to see me—”

“That’s not—” he cut me off, but immediately stopped. His throat bobbed with pent up fury as he squeezed his eyes shut. “That still doesn’t add up.”

“Well, he’s one of the oldest High Lords next to Helion, so there’s no way to really know,” I scoffed and stood from the armchair. I tucked in my wings close and with my chin held high, I began to walk past him towards the library doors. His reaction was to step back and look at the floor. “You should ask him if you’re so curious.”

As I was walking by him, I couldn’t help but feel my heartbeat increase. He still smelled like fresh pine and spring rain. He looked bigger now than he did the last time I saw him, but as I looked him over, I noticed those strong muscles were shaking. His chest even began to rise and fall very quickly. 

“Why are you so angry at me?” I asked so softly, my voice died out towards the final word. My eyes were beginning to burn, something I thought wouldn’t happen again. “I don’t understand—”

“Get away from me, Meiri.” My name on his lips was forced out like a slur, but he took a step back. His tone and his body language didn’t add up at all. 

“Am I that disgusting to you?”

“Absolutely revolting.”

That stung beyond comprehension, but it made my anger flare up like a heat wave. My wings spread out defensively, like a cornered hawk. “I wasn’t so revolting when you fucked me on Calanmai!”

His talons speared out of his knuckles and his teeth were bared like a beast, but he took another step back. He was heaving now, his shoulders moving with the furious gasps of air. He was still looking everywhere but at me.

“Meiri, please.” His voice wavered now. “Please leave.”

“I’m not leaving,” I said, crossing my arms in defiance. “Thesan had his reasons for doing this, so I can only assume he wanted us to talk.” When I took a step towards him, he growled at me. I snapped, “Hey!”

He jumped. Our eyes met as we both recalled that day we both first encountered one another, that day when I made the decision to tie him to me with a bargain and help him find a light in his darkness. 

I broke our glance this time. I dipped my head low enough for my chin to brush my chest. My crossed arms trembled as I felt an onslaught of tears bubbling up. “I miss you, Tamlin.”

He didn’t make a sound, nor did he move. I spoke again, “I miss feeling you on the other side of my mind, and I miss telling you stories. I miss eating lunch with you on the steps of your estate—”

“Stop it.”

“This can’t be about our courts!” I cried out, tears finally streaming down my cheeks. “If it was, you would’ve called it off a long time ago!”

“I was using you.” His voice was rough.

“That’s not true!” My wings flared to their fullest, taking up the entire entrance. “I refuse to believe that!”

A sob escaped me and I quickly slapped my hand over my mouth. I felt Tamlin shift in front of me. His talons had receded, but he was still breathing heavily and his muscles still trembled. 

“Your stories made me look forward to the next day,” he said softly. “It wasn’t the cleaning or the carving or the thought of recovering—I just wanted to know how you’d end the story, what crazy thing you’d come up with to give it a happy ending...” he trailed off. “I looked forward to hearing your voice every night.”

I dared to look up at him, meeting his eyes glossed over with tears. He was looking at me differently now; softer with none of that hatred from before. 

“Why are you acting this way?” I asked him again. He was taking slow breaths now, his hands opening and closing nervously. An eerie silence surrounded us with only an occasional whistle of wind from the open balcony. I waited for an answer, seeing his eyes moving ever so slightly as if he were concentrating on finding his next words. I opened my mouth to say something, but a sudden tug stopped me.

I felt it in my chest. Like a string tied to my rib.

“What...” I tried to ask, but I knew what it was. Tamlin stared down at me, frowning and tense. He tugged at me again and I gasped. The sound of it made him recoil and step back, growling like a caged beast.

He wasn’t angry. He was resisting. 

“At the High Lords’ meeting,” he said, answering the unsaid question looming between us. “That’s when I felt it snap into place.”

My eyes widened in realization. “That’s why you argued with Helion—”

“I felt it before that,” he said, his cheeks flushing. “It was the moment I walked into the room and I saw you.”

I remembered when he stopped abruptly and looked at me and my court, pulled away from Thesan and the guard, bumped into a servant, and then rushed out of the room. I thought seeing Feyre pregnant was the cause of his distress.

It was _me_.

“It hit me all at once,” he said, growling at the mere memory of it. “But I had to reel it in. I had to prove to everyone at the meeting that I’d changed. I couldn’t stand to look at you, Meiri—the sight of you makes me crumble.” His throat bobbed. “But when Helion said he wanted you to produce his heirs, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to rip him apart.”

Thesan must’ve realized something was going on when Tamlin snapped. When he confirmed my mystery friend was the same male I was fussing over, he must’ve made a wild guess. It still didn’t add up, but Thesan was wise and there would be no point in trying to figure out how he knew. 

“So that’s what this is all about?” I said, wiping my tears. “You’re rejecting the mating bond between us?”

“ _Rejecting_ it?” 

The wind was knocked out of my lungs as I stared up at him dumbly. He flexed his hands again nervously, “I thought pushing you away would make the bond dissolve, that hurting you and making you hate me would make it break. It made it worse.” He dipped his head down in shame. “I cursed the Mother six ways to Hell for shackling you to me like this—I’m the worst possible mate you can have, Meiri. You deserve better—”

“Tam—”

“You become mine and my sins become yours!” He raised his voice in frustration. It didn’t frighten me. “I’m a traitor to my own kind! Everyone hates me and my people want nothing to do with me! You become mine and you’ll be hated for it, and I can’t allow that.”

Another silence wafted between us. Tamlin was pushing me away because he didn’t want to drag me down with him. He felt he didn’t deserve me, that his sins didn’t make him worthy.

I was surprised when a giggle escaped me. Tamlin was shocked too; he was frowning at me in utter confusion. I smiled at him, “Now it makes sense why you didn’t accept the cheese pastries.”

He let out an exasperated scoff. “Meiri, this is serious—”

“I think you’re the first male in history that’s trying to convince the female _not_ to accept the bond.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, quite the opposite.” I said with a smile. “It means you’ve given thought to a future with me, and it’s the first time in a long time that you’ve thought so far ahead.”

I reached out and took his large hand in mine. He hissed at the contact but didn’t pull away. My pulse knocked against my throat as I squeezed his hand. He didn’t look up at me; he simply stared at our joined hands as if mesmerized. 

“I didn’t come here on vacation—not entirely, anyway,” I said. My throat wanted to clamp shut, but I pushed the words out. “When you asked me to get rid of our bargain and said all those things...” I paused. “I was heartbroken. Rhys and everyone else noticed, and they told me to stay in the Dawn Court for a while.”

Tamlin squeezed my hand. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against mine. “I fell in love with you the moment you came to me in that beautiful dress.” The scent of him was intoxicating. My heart was pounding against my chest at the words spilling from his lips with little hesitation. “When I was broken and you held me and told me you’d never give up on me; I loved you ever since that day, Meiri.”

Our noses touched. I felt his breath against my lips. “My parents were mates, but they were a bad match. It doesn’t guarantee happiness, and being with someone like me will only bring you grief. I’m sorry fate brought us together this way.”

“Why are you so sure we’re a bad match?” 

His breath hitched and his thumbs began to run over my knuckles gently, savoring the feeling. “I’ve never let myself hope that one day you might...”

“Love you?” I finished for him. He squeezed his eyes shut, giving me an affirmation. “I don’t know if what I feel for you is love, but I don’t want to lose you.”

He bared his teeth, visibly resisting the bond urging him to have me. His ability to do so was waning, however. He leaned forward just a bit and pressed his lips against mine hesitantly. At first, my body froze and my mind raced with thoughts. Of consequences, of emotions. Was it love? Was it friendship? Was it physical attraction? I didn’t know, but I found myself melting against him. My wings flopped to the floor and threw my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He groaned and took my waist in his hands to pull me up to his height, holding me in place as our lips moved passionately. 

Behind us, someone cleared their throat. 

I whirled my head around, Tamlin still holding me above the air. Heat began to rise over my neck and ears when I saw Thesan standing on the threshold of the door. A knowing smile paraded his handsome features. 

“I take it everything was settled?” he asked. “Good. I would be disappointed if my very hasty plan turned disastrous.”

Tamlin put me down gently and I tucked my wings in properly. I brushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear as Tamlin asked, “How did you know, Thesan?”

“Your outburst at the meeting was strange, but Helion’s peculiar word choice caught my attention: _I apologize. I had no idea._ ” My eyes widened, and I’m sure Tamlin’s were doing the same. Thesan continued, “It piqued my interest, so I sent him a letter afterwards. He confirmed that he knew a mating bond when he saw one—the feral look in Tamlin’s eyes was telling enough.”

“No one else noticed?”

“Rhysand was too focused on protecting his mate from you, as was Kallias. Tarquin is too young to realize these things and Beron is too simple-minded,” he explained. “When Meiri came here heartbroken and I confirmed her friend from her letter earlier in the year was the same person causing her grief, I followed my instinct and invited you here. I knew nothing of what occurred between you both to cause so much tension, but I thought it’d be best to confine you two in a room and let nature take its course.”

“You’re wicked, Thesan,” I joked lightly. “I have to send a letter of thanks to Helion.”

Tamlin growled quietly from behind me, and it made me shiver. The mating bond was rumbling in him, making him protective of me. It made my blood run hot. 

“I suppose you both have decided what you will do, yes?” Thesan asked, his eyes bouncing between me and Tamlin. Our looks of embarrassment and hesitation were enough for him, “Well, you both have much to talk about. Feel free to stay, or leave. The choice is yours.” 

And with a flourish of golden robes, Thesan left the library. Tamlin and I stood there silently, still buzzed from the kiss and from Thesan’s words.

“I suppose we do have much to discuss,” Tamlin began awkwardly. 

It amused me to see him so serious and yet, so flustered. I could hear his heart beating rapidly in tune with my own. I couldn’t feel the bond like he did. It amazed me how he’s managed to keep his sanity this entire time. 

“I want you, there’s no question about it.” His words made my ears heat up. “But if you were to accept our mating bond, you’ll be sacrificing more: your friends, your job, your _home_.” The last word left him softly; he knew I loved Velaris. “And I don’t want you to accept this if you don’t truly love me, and I understand if you don’t.”

I hesitated in my response. He was right. I’d be sacrificing much more, and I couldn’t simply elope and leave my friends—my family—behind without an explanation. And it was a long explanation too. I wasn’t even sure of my feelings. Did I love him as a friend? As a lover? Did I see a future with him? How has he been feeling this entire time, falling in love with me and thinking it could never happen?

“But,” Tamlin interrupted my thoughts. “I would like to court you properly. If you’ll allow me.”

I burst into laughter. “Oh, this will be interesting!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You said there might be room in your heart for me, and while I’m terrified of ruining you by making you mine, you are willing to give us a chance.” He took a deep breath. “But I only want you to accept our bond if you truly love me, no exceptions.”

I led him to my chambers in Thesan’s palace. The servants had tidied up the room while I was away: they made the bed, did away with my dressing gown and towels from this morning’s bath and the breakfast tray. The patio doors leading to the balcony were closed but the curtains were drawn to let in natural light. 

I asked Tamlin if he wanted something to eat or drink, but he kindly refused. I threw open the patio doors and we sat on the ornate chairs decorating the large balcony. The breeze swept through my hair, making me breath in and pick up on Tamlin’s nervousness. He sat across from me, his leg bouncing and his large hands fidgeting on his lap. His pointed ears were flushed pink and his eyes moved erratically.

“I want to start by saying I apologize for hurting you,” he said, his head dipping low enough for his hair to curtain his face from my view. “I wanted to push you away, but I meant none of it. I never used you, Meiri. I would never—”

“I know, you big oaf,” I grinned, tucking my legs underneath me to sit more comfortably. Noticing my shift, the tension in his shoulders eased. He was looking at me now, those deep green eyes that swallowed me whole. “It was a dumb thing to do, but I understand why you did it.”

“If we mate...” His throat bobbed with a thick swallow; the mere thought of it was enough to throw him off. I knew the bond was powerful, but I couldn’t imagine the raw desire pumping through his veins. “You’ll become Lady of the Spring Court, my wife, and I will make you my High Lady. You are my equal.”

“Feyre always said you had no desire to make her High Lady.” 

“I was concerned with Feyre’s safety after what occurred Under the Mountain,” he said. Saying her name didn’t make his voice waver like it used to, and I was relieved. “I wanted to cast that idea away from her mind; making her High Lady made her a target, and I was obsessed with protecting her.”

“So I don’t deserve protection?” I pouted playfully.

He smirked even as a nervous flush of pink dusted his cheeks. “I’ll put down my life to protect you, Meiri—High Lady or not.” It was my turn to blush. “The idea of a High Lady has always been an archaic concept. My father thought so as well, and my mother didn’t dare refute him. I don’t wish to be like my father, and I think that the High Lords of Prythian should follow Rhysand’s example and make their partners equal to them, whether they’re mates or not.”

“I think Rhys might just be impressed to hear you say that.”

“I hope so,” Tamlin sighed softly. “I still want to tell him the truth and hopefully fix the relations between our courts, for our sake but mostly for yours. Even if we don’t mate,” he paused, the thought visibly distressing him. “I want my court to always be open to you and your family.”

“We can have Solstice dinners,” I joked. When he frowned at me, I burst into laughter. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t help it.”

“You’re taking this in much lighter spirits than I am.”

“You need to loosen up!” I flexed my wings subconsciously. “Rhys knows how sacred the mating bond is and if I say I’m sure I want to be with you, he’ll accept it.”

“You truly want to be with me?” The look of childish awe made my stomach flutter and my eyes sting. “Do you love me?”

“There might be something there,” I said. “I’m willing to give it a chance.”

He let out a sharp sigh as if hearing the words punched him in the gut and left him breathless. His head dipped down as he spoke softly, “Sometimes I feel I don’t deserve this, that the Mother is fooling me and will make this all disappear with a snap of her fingers.”

“Stop thinking so lowly of yourself,” I said. “You deserve happiness, and the Mother put me in your way to make you the person you are now. She obviously wants us to be together, otherwise she wouldn’t have made us mates.”

“Even before the bond clicked into place for me,” he began softly. “I ignored one obvious sign because I didn’t think it was possible that I’d be blessed with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“When we performed the Great Rite, the land bloomed uncontrollably,” he said. “It only ever bloomed that way for my mother and father—the magic between mates is sacred.” He looked into my eyes and graced me with a smile. “The land knew we were mates from the start.”

“And you didn’t say a thing?” I teased. His cheeks flushed and he looked away. “I think you suggested I perform the Great Rite with you for other reasons…”

He crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat. He was so easy to tease, I couldn’t help but smile. I changed the subject, “So you want to court me?” He nodded. “What will you do, bring me flowers?”

“If you want them,” he smirked. “My court is blooming with them.”

“I wonder why!”

We laughed together until it dissolved gently. Tamlin said, “I wouldn’t want you to be my mate if you don’t love me, but becoming my mate will disgrace you—”

“We’d be starting from scratch,” I said. “You’re recovering your place and polishing up your image in Prythian, and I’ll be the lady on your arm that softens your rough edges.”

He smiled, probably picturing it, and it made my heart skip. He shook his head, “You’ll be much more than that, Meiri. I don’t want to make the same mistakes my ancestors and I made in the past; I want you to be present in court affairs and be my voice of reason, to give me your opinions and not be afraid to tell me I’m doing something wrong.”

“I’m Illyrian,” I smirked. “I’ll give you my honest opinion whether you like it or not.”

“You’re free to do as you like,” he said. “I will never forbid you anything.”

“Is that a bargain?” I joked, but a tinge of sadness escaped in my tone. The skin on my forearm tingled at the memory of the tattoo that once painted it, and it seemed Tamlin also felt the same sensation. He rubbed his arm absentmindedly.

“I want to make another bargain,” Tamlin said as he met my eyes. When I tilted my head in silent inquiry, he continued, “You said there might be room in your heart for me, and while I’m terrified of ruining you by making you mine, you are willing to give us a chance.” He took a deep breath. “But I only want you to accept our bond if you truly love me, no exceptions.”

“I like the sound of that bargain.”

I uncurled my legs from underneath me and strolled to his side of the balcony. He stood immediately, his muscles rigid. Those deep green eyes staring down at me so longingly and fiercely, so full of raw passion and mindless affection. I took his hands in mine; I didn’t know if I was trembling, or if he was. 

“You will court me and try to sneak your way into my heart like a thief in the night,” I smiled. Magic began to simmer around us. “And I will only accept our mating bond if I truly love you. Only then will this bargain be fulfilled. Do you accept?”

Tamlin squeezed my hands. “I do.”

Whirls of black ink painted themselves on our forearms, just like the previous one. I loved the stinging sensation of it, as if my skin craved the feeling after missing it. Tamlin was smiling at me dreamingly as he dipped his head down and kissed the back of my hand.

“I want to speak to Rhysand and Feyre,” he said. “It is long overdue.”

* * *

Thesan invited us to dinner that night and we told him what occurred. We found no reason to hide it, and we owed him for pushing us together like a wicked matchmaker. He seemed both amused and delighted by our announcement. He also apologized to Tamlin for lying about wanting to negotiate trade agreements, but while that was merely a ruse to invite him to the Dawn Court, he said he would be open to them in the future when the Spring Court became more self-sustainable. Tamlin agreed. 

Tamlin kissed my wrist again as a silent farewell as I stretched my wings for flight. “Tug on the bond when you get home.”

“Likewise,” I smiled at him. I tried to ignore how his shoulders sagged; after admitting his love for me, he did nothing to hide his emotions. It made my cheeks flare up. 

As promised, I tugged on the bond when I arrived in Velaris and he did the same a few minutes later. I showered and changed into my Illyrian leathers before flying up to the House of Wind. Servants bowed their heads in greeting and offered me refreshments and food, but I declined. I didn’t make it past the sitting room when Azriel appeared, his shadows dancing around his ears. He obviously knew I returned to Velaris the moment I winnowed in. It was the nature of the job.

“We gave you one more week to stay in the Dawn Court,” he said, his hazel eyes looking me over. “But you seem to be in lighter spirits. Did Thesan also happen to brew an antidote for melancholy?” 

I laughed at his dry humor. “It’s good to see you too, Az.”

“But you are feeling better?”

“Yes,” I nodded slowly, my mind drifting away to think of what I’d come here for. My skin crawled at the prospect, and he seemed to sense it. His shadows began to dance around him like tendrils of smoke, but before he could ask, I spoke, “I need to speak to Rhysand and Feyre. Are they at the riverside manor?”

“Feyre is.” Rhysand appeared from a neighboring corridor, his hair ruffled from the wind as he tucked in his wings. He was smirking. “I don’t know where Rhysand might be, though.”

Azriel and I both rolled our eyes while Rhysand laughed at his own stupid joke. “Feyre’s been a bit moody today and wanted some space so she kicked me out of the house for a few hours. I came up here for some air and heard from Azriel you arrived ahead of schedule.”

“And you waited to make a dramatic entrance,” I laughed. “How typical of you, Rhys.”

“My theatrics don’t impress you anymore! How disappointing,” he pouted. “Feyre likes them.”

Azriel chimed in. “Was that before or after she kicked you out of the house?” 

“What did you need to talk to me about, Meiri?” Rhysand ignored Azriel’s taunt, much to the shadowsinger’s amusement. He silently made his way out of the sitting room, figuring this was a private conversation. 

I waited for Azriel’s footsteps to disappear entirely before breathing in deeply, “It’s a very long story, and one I don’t think Feyre would enjoy hearing if she’s in a foul mood today.”

Rhysand frowned. “What’s this about?”

“It’s about Tamlin.”

“What did he do now?”

“He hasn’t  _ done _ anything,” I said, noting the utter disdain in his tone. Mine matched his, and he noticed it too. “He wants to speak to you and Feyre.”

Rhysand’s wings disappeared in puffs of smoky darkness as he slipped his hands into his pockets. His eyes were narrowed with suspicion, a series of questions and calculations and theories no doubt spinning through his mind. I was second-in-command of his spy network, so he obviously trusted what I was saying and surely wasn’t about to question my sources, but I felt the need to add, “He wants to apologize to Feyre for his actions towards her, and he wants to sit down with you and explain what happened the day your mother and sister were killed.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Rhysand scoffed. “And I don’t want him anywhere near Feyre, and she wants nothing to do with him, especially after the way he acted during the High Lords’ meeting.”

“Do you know why he acted that way?” My tone was firm, my back rigid like a warrior’s. He scanned me with his eyes, sensing the confidence in me. I felt the talons of his mind knock against my mental shields.

_ You obviously know something I don’t. _

_ I’ll tell you everything. Just answer my question. _

“He didn’t know Feyre was pregnant and couldn’t handle it,” Rhysand shrugged. “He was still bitter about everything that happened when I last saw him.”  _ Now will you tell me what’s going on? _

“Tamlin and I are mates.” I was straightforward, and Rhysand looked like I punched him in the jaw. “It snapped into place for him at the meeting, and that’s why he stepped out and why he was so hostile with Helion.”

I could see the realization dawn on him in seconds, probably piecing the events of that day together the same way Thesan did. Tamlin’s stiff demeanor, his refusal to look at us, his sudden outburst, Helion’s peculiar word choice.

“He came to see you in the Dawn Court? To tell you this? How does he know who you are?” Rhysand asked quickly. “Thesan allowed him to enter his court? Or did he sneak in? How did Tamlin even know you were—”

“Rhys,” I stopped him. “It’s a very long story and I understand if you’re furious after I let you into my mind to see my memories.” I paused, surveying his facial expression as it morphed into unfiltered confusion, something rarely seen on him. “I take full responsibility for what I did and if you and Feyre want to consider it treason—”

“What did you do?” His tone was clipped, but I could smell the fear on him. The fear of betrayal. 

I merely unrolled my sleeve, showing him the tattoo of Tamlin’s bargain with me. An entirely different bargain, but Rhysand will soon understand when I let him into my mind. Still, I eased his growing fear, “I didn’t betray you nor did I betray our network—I am and will always be loyal to the Night Court and the Court of Dreams.” I pulled my chin up in defiance. “But telling Tamlin he deserved to be miserable and kicking him while he was on the verge of suicide is unforgivable.”

“And you don’t think he deserves it? After everything he did?”

“He needed help, and everyone turned their backs on him,” I said, clenching my teeth to bite back tears. Remembering the endless darkness that loomed around Tamlin suffocated me where I stood. Feeling the soothing calm on the other side of our new bond allowed me to breathe again. “Isn’t that the reason why you all hate him? Because he turned his back on Feyre when she was crying for help?”

He went so still, one would think he was a lifelike wax figure. He still didn’t move as he touched my mind.

_ Show me everything. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s beautiful here,” he said, glancing at the roaring waters of the Sidra nearby. I saw a change in his eyes as he sighed softly. “Are you sure you’d be willing to leave this for me—for us?”

It was like pulling on a rope, each tug bringing him closer and closer. I could feel the whirlwind of emotions blasting through the bond, down the rope I was pulling on to lead him to me. His presence was getting closer and with one final tug, Tamlin appeared a short distance away on the gravel pathway. The enormous riverside estate of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court loomed behind me, but Tamlin was only looking at me, a lopsided smile on his handsome face.

“Welcome to Velaris,” I greeted. His body language was telling: shoulders stiff, hands clasped behind his back, eyebrows pinched. However, I couldn’t tell if he was more nervous about this meeting, or about being in my presence again.

“It’s beautiful here,” he said, glancing at the roaring waters of the Sidra nearby. I saw a change in his eyes as he sighed softly. “Are you sure you’d be willing to leave this for me—for us?”

“Well, you’d have to convince me,” I teased. “You have a very difficult task on your hands.”

He knew I was purposefully annoying him because he tugged on our mating bond, eliciting a surprised yelp from me. It felt deeper than the bargain linking our minds; it felt like a flutter in my stomach while tugging on our bargain felt like someone pulling my hair. It left me shivering pleasantly, despite the agreeable weather. 

“Glad you found your way.” Rhysand was walking down the walkway towards us, dressed in a royal purple shirt and neatly pressed trousers. I felt the agitation on Tamlin’s end dwindle just a bit when Rhysand extended his hand out to shake. “Welcome.”

“Thank you for inviting me.” Tamlin took his hand and shook it firmly. I watched the interaction between the two of them, sensing the awkwardness due to so many years of evasion and scorn. They were still wary of each other, but willing to listen.

We walked into the manor, strolling through a seemingly endless corridor before entering a drawing room. It was very nicely decorated with antique wooden furniture, comfortably cushioned sofas and a shiny coffee table separating the seats. The walls were lined with colorful paintings of landscapes, some painted by Feyre while others were purchased in the Rainbow. 

Feyre was sitting on one of the sofas, her hand rubbing her swollen belly absentmindedly. She wore a simple dark grey gown trimmed in silver, her golden brown hair pinned up with jeweled pins. Her glance was piercing as we walked inside, so much so that Tamlin immediately tensed and avoided her glance. The High Lady merely said, “Welcome, Tamlin.”

Tamlin only nodded, taking a seat when Rhysand gestured at the couch across the coffee table. As Rhysand situated himself next to Feyre, I sat on an empty armchair overlooking them all, my wings settling comfortably on the openings made specifically for Illyrians.

“Meiri showed me everything, and I showed Feyre,” Rhysand began. “We know everything from the first day Meiri met you all the way up to your rendezvous in the Dawn Court.”

I saw Tamlin’s ears go pink but he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for what happened to your mother and sister, Rhys. I should’ve warned you that my brother knew about their location, but I never thought they would do such a thing. It was an open declaration of war, and while my father was a brute, I didn’t think he was _ that _ stupid.”

“He thought he could get away with it,” Rhysand said with a shrug. Always putting up the casual facade even though it brought him pain to think back on that time. “I was under the impression you were involved somehow.”

“I was your friend,” Tamlin said firmly, the hurt in his green eyes making them gloss over. “You really thought I was capable of killing your mother and your sister? Of telling my father where they were, when all he ever did was scorn me about my friendship with you?”

“My father always said you would betray me, and when I saw my mother and sister’s heads and their bodies missing their wings...” Rhysand sighed sharply. “You were the only one that knew about where I was meeting them, and my father’s warnings finally became a reality. I suppose this was a glass waiting to tip over.”

“I’m sorry it had to tip over and spill blood,” Tamlin said. “Meiri told me you had no intention of hurting my mother, but your father still killed her—”

“And I apologize for that,” Rhysand said. “And I want to thank you for burning their wings.”

“Illyrians burn their dead. You taught me that.”

My eyes swept over to Rhysand, who was sitting casually with his legs crossed and arm thrown over the backrest of the couch behind Feyre. I knew better than to be fooled by this facade of his. I speared into his mind and knocked into his walls.  _ Are you forgetting something, Rhys? _

“I shouldn’t have kicked you while you were down,” he began, his shoulders tense. “You hurt my mate, belittled her and humiliated her, and I hate you for it. But I was a hypocrite by doing to you what you did to her. I nearly pushed you over the edge, and if it wasn’t for Meiri, I think you wouldn’t be sitting here before me.”

“You’re right,” Tamlin nodded. “I wouldn’t be, had she not been there that day.”

Rhys took a deep breath. “I admit I chose not to seek the truth about what truly happened the day my mother and sister were killed, and for that you have my forgiveness. For what you did to Feyre, my feelings towards you are clear, but it’s her choice to forgive you or not.”

“I don’t,” Feyre finally chimed in. I was pleasantly surprised to see Tamlin hold her glance as she continued, “You turned your back on me after everything I sacrificed for you. I loved you, but you didn’t care. I’m High Lady of this court and I will be cordial to you for official purposes, but we are not friends.”

“Forgiveness is a choice,” Tamlin told her. His fists were clenched tightly on his lap. “And I accept that you won’t forgive me, and I don’t expect you to. But I did love you, Feyre. I wanted to protect you so much I didn’t realize I was hurting you, that Ianthe was hurting you. I was willing to do anything to get you back and I didn’t want to admit I’d lost you forever. We were both in a dark place with no light; you found yours, and now I’ve found mine.”

“When I turned your court against you,” Feyre said. “I was so focused on ruining you, I didn’t think of the danger I was putting your people in. I apologize for that, and I truly hope your people return to the Spring Court. They’re good people.”

“Thank you.” Tamlin bowed his head respectfully. 

There was a moment of silence that Rhysand filled by calling for Nuala and Cerridwen to bring us tea. When the females poured them all hot tea and left the room, the conversation continued. Rhysand spoke first, “You want to court Meiri.”

Tamlin nearly choked on his tea. “I don’t want her to accept our bond if no love exists between us. You and I both know what a mating bond with no love looks like.”

“Indeed.” Rhysand let his teacup float down and settle on its saucer on the coffee table. “The choice to accept you as her mate is Meiri’s and hers alone. She is a member of my court and I consider her my sister; her choice of helping you is not treason in our eyes.” He gestured to himself and Feyre. “I do understand why she kept it from us and I’m glad she helped you recover—she did the impossible.”

“Rhys,” I scolded lightly, but Tamlin took it in stride, gracing them with a small smirk. 

“All I will say is that if she  _ does _ accept the mating bond, and you hurt her in  _ any _ way,” Rhys leaned forward as he said this, his eyes fierce and burning. “I will kill you, mating bond or not.”

“Understood,” Tamlin nodded. “But there’s one thing I want to ask of both of you.”

I frowned in confusion, and so did Rhysand and Feyre. Their silence beckoned Tamlin to continue, “I want you to swear that Velaris will never be closed to Meiri. I want her to be free to come to Velaris whenever she wants to, even if she’s High Lady of the Spring Court.” Tamlin met my eyes longingly before focusing back on Rhysand and Feyre. “I know you’d never turn your backs on her, but I want to hear you swear it.”

“I swear it,” Rhysand said. “Velaris will never be closed to Meiri, regardless of her titles.”

“I swear it,” Feyre followed suit. “Velaris will always be open to her whenever she wishes to come here.”

My throat burned with tears as I smiled. I was touched by Rhysand and Feyre’s promise, and by Tamlin’s thoughtfulness. Even if I accepted the mating bond and lived with him in the Spring Court, he wanted me to never lose my home in Velaris. He never wanted me to feel like I had to leave that life behind. That I could roam the Rainbow and walk along the Sidra and visit Cassian and Azriel and Mor whenever I wanted to with no obligation to ask for permission from the High Lord and Lady. They’re like family to me, but I was touched that Tamlin wanted to reassure himself that they’d never close this city to me.

Rhysand suddenly grinned mischievously. “Have you heard of this artist named Vulcan? Buying his work has put quite a dent in my bank account.”

* * *

I gave Tamlin a tour of Velaris for the rest of the day. We strolled through the downtown area, walked along the Sidra, browsed through different shops, and I even took him to the bakery that sold the cheese pastries he loved so much. I assured him the people of Velaris weren’t keen on politics and wouldn’t recognize him as the High Lord of Spring. It was only after walking two blocks without anyone staring at him did Tamlin finally relax. 

“Rhiannon asks about you whenever she can get a hold of me,” I told him with a laugh. “Do you think introducing you will scare her off?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Tamlin shrugged, his head still swiveling around to admire the many colors of Velaris. “Besides, I like the idea of having an artistic emissary.”

“I’m honored.” I pointed up the street ahead of us. “My apartment’s just down the street. I can make us some tea before you go home.”

I tried my best not to laugh when I felt a wave of his nervousness wash over me through the bond. He wanted to avoid being alone with me; the mating bond most likely screamed at him to make a move, to claim me and make me his in the most primal way. The thought made my stomach flop and my wings curl up tighter against my back.

When we entered the warmth of my apartment, the first thing he noticed was the sculpture he’d given me what felt like a century ago. His voice wavered, “You still have it.”

“Of course I do.”

“I thought you’d thrown it away after I...” he trailed off, leaning over to admire his work. In reality, he was admiring my features on the fine woodwork. “I’m sorry for that, Meiri.”

“You don’t need to apologize anymore.” I boldly placed a hand between his shoulder blades and I immediately felt his back muscles tighten. “I thought about tossing it out, but I couldn’t. I was so touched you’d make something so beautiful for me.”

“It’s a sculpture of you,” he said, turning his head to flash a stupid grin. “Of course it’s beautiful.”

I groaned playfully and rolled my eyes. “Is this the courtship?”

“I take it you’re not keen on flattery?”

“Not like that!”

We both laughed. Tamlin took my hand in his, feeling my knuckles with his thumb before pushing back the sleeve of my sweater to expose my wrist and a bit of the tattoo of our bargain. 

“I feel so selfish for wanting you,” Tamlin said, barely a whisper. “With the stupid decisions I’ve made and the pain I’ve caused, I don’t deserve someone like you.”

“Self-loathing is not attractive, Tam.” I knew hearing his nickname would make his cheeks flush. It was endearing. “If you want to win me over, you have to act like my equal.”

Tamlin remained silent, brooding over my words. He touched my wrist, feeling the ink of my tattoo against his thumb. I touched his mind, trying to ease his nerves.

_ You’re not the same male from before, Tam. I see the change in you. You’re working hard to improve yourself. Don’t feel bad for wanting to be happy and for wanting me. _

He sighed shakily and I could feel the desire bubbling just below the surface of his skin. He was simmering with it. The mating bond was powerful, and when paired with genuine love, it was maddening. I almost felt awful for him, watching him shove down his feelings to keep them from exploding. 

“I’ll prove to you I’m worthy,” he finally said, looking into my eyes and squeezing my hands. “Prove it to you, and to myself.”

He already proved to me that he’s capable of change and worthy of happiness, but I kept silent. He was still lugging the guilt of his actions and was scared to ruin everything again with one wrong move. He had to see for himself that he didn’t have to worry about a thing; that I trusted him to make me happy. 

I made my decision right then and there, as I watched him lean down and lay a gentle kiss on the back of my hand. I wanted him to be mine. I wanted to be his. But he needed to find his confidence as a lover and a future husband and mate. I don’t want him to be afraid of loving me and wanting to protect me. Only then will I accept our mating bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I weighed both options and chose the one I thought would embarrass him the most. 

I knew everyone was wary about my decision to give Tamlin a chance. They wanted me to be happy and to find that happiness with my mate, but they were still suspicious. I didn’t blame them; Tamlin still had to work on regaining the trust of others. 

“Just  _ really _ think about it,” Cassian said. “Don’t do it just for the mating bond.”

I held up my arm, showing off the tattoo of my recent bargain with Tamlin—set to disappear should I admit my love for him. Cassian huffed in exasperation, “I know! Just...please? Think about it?”

“What he’s trying to say is that he’ll miss you if you go.” Azriel’s shadows were dancing around him. “I’ll miss you too, but I’m much more straightforward about admitting it.”

“There’s no need to worry,” Mor chimed in, swishing her wine glass in her manicured fingers. Her rich brown eyes were flashing with magic. The magic that makes her Morrigan Truth Speaker. “I saw the change in Tamlin. He’s not the male I saw last year.”

“I’m impressed,” Amren chimed in. “You managed to change a male and sneak around to do it; Azriel must be very pleased with himself.”

“I learned from the best,” I grinned. I swore I saw Azriel’s ears go pink despite his stern expression. “Tamlin has changed and he’s taking his recovery seriously. He’s trying to build up what he’s destroyed.”

“Thank the Cauldron we’re immortal,” Cassian said. “I feel like he’ll need a few lifetimes to do that.”

“Patience and consistency,” I said. “That’s his mantra.”

“Rhys warned Tamlin, right? About—”

“Killing him if I so much as shed a tear? Yes, he was clear.”

“I will admit Tamlin’s a good sculptor,” Mor said with a shrug of her shoulders. “I never would’ve guessed the sculpture in your apartment was his work.”

“Or the picture frames on the walls, the bookends in the shelves, and the coasters on this table,” Amren pointed at the beautifully carved blocks of wood holding our glasses of liquor. “Feyre and Rhys must’ve been thrilled to find out who Vulcan really was.”

“Feyre appreciates art and the artists that create it,” I said. “Vulcan and Tamlin are two different people in her head—at least that’s how I see it.”

“Goes to show she’s moved on,” Mor said. “In all honesty, they both needed closure.”

“Agreed,” Azriel hummed in agreement as Cassian nodded. Amren merely sipped her wine to signify her acceptance of Mor’s statement. I smiled happily, grateful to see them all seeing Tamlin’s efforts and flirting with the idea of giving him a chance in their hearts. There was no doubt they were setting aside their reservations for me, but I hoped one day they’d truly see Tamlin as a good male who lost his way. 

* * *

I traveled to the Spring Court when I was given a few days off from assignments. It’d been a while since I visited during the day, and the improvements were much more obvious. Workers from the Summer Court were tending to the gardens of the estate, giving it much needed liveliness. The Spring Court had been desolate and quiet for far too long; there were songbirds and insects and the chatter of workers and the rustle of leaves in the trees. 

Tamlin greeted me at the steps of the estate, leaning down to kiss my hand. He walked me inside and showed me the most recent improvements and the projects he was working on with the nearby village.

“We’ve been putting all our efforts into restoring the village just a few miles from here,” he said, holding the patio door open for me so I could step into the vast gardens behind the estate. His mother’s rose garden was in full bloom, the smell of the open buds sweet and relaxing. “Since it's the closest to the estate, it’s taken the most damage out of all the villages in the court: Amarantha destroyed it, and then Hybern when they marched through.”

“Is it almost done?”

“We’re finishing the last few houses,” he said. “The well is providing the entire village with clean running water, and I’ve already received word from the former tavern owner—he said he’d love to return to his old job.”

“And where there’s alcohol, there’s people,” I joked. “Others will follow the tavern owner.”

Tamlin smiled, his eyes trailing off absentmindedly. It warmed my heart to see him so content, to see his people wanting to return to their home and trusting him enough to do so. 

“Would you like to see the village?” he asked hesitantly. “We can get there in an hour on horseback.”

I hummed in thought, my lips spreading in a sheepish grin. “I’ve never ridden a horse.”

“Never?”

“I have wings. I don’t need to ride a horse.”

Tamlin let out a deep laugh. “You’re welcomed to fly to the village, but I can teach you to ride if you’d like.”

I pretended to think about it which made him roll his eyes playfully. I teased, “I think my wings will get in the way...”

“Your wings would only be in the way if you want me riding with you.” His smirk made his eyes sparkle and my heart race. “But we can work around that, surely.”

Tamlin led me to the stables on the far side of the estate. There was a young Summer Court male shoveling hay for the horses and when he saw us, he smiled happily. I was pleased to see the workers were genuinely comfortable around Tamlin.

I watched Tamlin saddle a beautiful spotted mare, expertly buckling the saddle and brushing the mare to keep her calm. When he secured the bit and checked the buckles for tightness, he beckoned me over and told me to pet her snout. Horses were a foreign concept to me, similar to mythological creatures. The mare snorted when I touched her, her ears moving in response. 

“You swear she won’t kick us off?” I asked. I didn’t fear the mare—she seemed docile enough—but riding a breathing animal for transport was incredibly strange when I had a strong pair of wings on my back. But I was willing to try something new. “I don’t want to develop a fear of horses so soon.”

“She won’t, I promise,” he chuckled. He patted the saddle for emphasis. “You have two options: you can ride astride behind me, or ride sidesaddle in front of me.”

I grinned when his cheeks visibly flushed. Both options put him in an awkward position: if I rode behind him, I would wrap my arms around him, and if I rode in front of him, he’d have to wrap his arms around me. I weighed both options and chose the one I thought would embarrass him the most. 

“I want to ride in the front,” I said. “I’m a lady, after all.”

“As you wish.” 

I was pleasantly surprised when he took my waist in his large hands, lifted me up as if I weighed nothing, and placed me on the saddle. He then hooked his boot into the stirrup and swung onto the saddle, pressing up against my side. His muscles were tense, but his expression betrayed no nervousness; only his pointed ears were tinted pink.

His arms snaked around me, taking hold of the reins near the pommel of the saddle. He was careful to keep his right arm just underneath my wings to avoid touching them. I was flattered he always respected that very important Illyrian rule. 

“Comfortable?” he asked. In response, I leaned against his chest. My keen hearing picked up the sound of his thumping heart and the rumble of his chest as he cleared his throat. “I think you’re enjoying making a fool out of me.”

“It’s fun to see you all flustered,” I laughed, patting his arm with my hand. He was wearing sleeves, but I could still feel the thick muscle underneath. It was no wonder he lifted me like a feather. 

The sprawling fields of the Spring Court stretched for miles with patches of wildflowers providing vivid colors of red, blue, and yellow to the never-ending green. The weather was pleasantly warm with a refreshing breeze that whipped my hair around and filled my nose with the sweet scent of flowers. It was difficult not to fall asleep. Despite my drowsiness, I was hyper-aware of Tamlin’s hand on my hip while the other was wrapped around the reins. Not that he had much steering to do; the trails had no turns and the mare’s pace was barely a trot. She obviously knew the way.

“If I knew any better, I’d say you’re taking the long way on purpose,” I yawned. “And putting a sleeping spell on me.”

“Do you want to stop and nap?”

“I’m not a child!”

“You’re acting like one,” he teased, pinching my waist for emphasis. I yelped in surprise and slapped his chest. I could feel the muscle underneath his doublet and to avoid having my mind wander, I pulled away hastily. Tamlin noticed immediately and chuckled, “Did you find something you like?”

“Perhaps.” I looked up at him and smirked. I saw his throat bob anxiously as his hand tightened on my waist. I don’t think he was aware of it, but I didn’t mind. Having me so close to him was testing his self-control, and he’s come a long way with controlling his emotions. 

When we finally arrived at the village, he gave me a tour. He showed me the nearly finished homes lining the residential area of the village and the town. He said he envisioned making a fountain to add some liveliness to the village and also showed me the tavern with a counter and barstools he carved himself. 

The workers were not surprised to see me, but they stared incredulously at my wings. It didn’t bother me; I knew Illyrians were rare in the Seasonal Courts and seeing one in person was nothing short of a surprise. Nevertheless, they were very friendly and didn’t object to my offers to help with the rebuilding efforts. Tamlin worked alongside me, oftentimes leaving my side to direct some of the workers. Regardless of what I was doing, I always felt his eyes on me. 

When the sun was starting to set over the horizon, we all began to clean up the work stations and tools. When we were just about finished, one of the workers called out to Tamlin, “Will you play for us tonight?”

Tamlin’s eyes met mine, a shy smile lighting up his handsome features. “Did I ever mention I played the fiddle?”

* * *

I was starting to believe Tamlin could master anything he put his mind to. He no doubt had an affinity for the arts: he was a talented sculptor and was equally talented at playing the fiddle. He did so effortlessly, going along with the tune of the other musicians by ear with no prior practice. The Summer Court workers danced in the darkness, illuminated by the light of the small bonfire. This was a nightly occurrence, Tamlin had told me. Summer Court was known for revelry, especially those that lasted multiple days. 

No male asked me to dance. Tamlin either warned them about our mating bond, or they came to their own conclusions. The females would beckon me to join them in their circle dances and I’d stumble every other step; Illyrians were dreadful dancers.

Again, Tamlin couldn’t keep his eyes off me. I’d find him staring at me in a daze, but his fiddle-playing would never falter. He was always in tune with the others despite how mindless he looked as he admired me. The females around me would giggle at the High Lord’s shameless infatuation.

It was probably midnight when we finally decided to ride back to the estate. The full moon was directly over our heads surrounded by twinkling stars with no clouds in sight. It was a beautifully clear sky. The cool night breeze swept through the trees, the sound of the leaves harmonizing with the chirps of crickets. 

I was resting my head on Tamlin’s chest, the sway of his mare and his body heat lulling me to sleep. I sighed softly and I immediately felt him do the same; it made me smile.

“Have you seen fireflies before?” he suddenly asked. 

“Just because I’ve never ridden a horse doesn’t mean I’m completely ignorant,” I teased him as he pointed his sharp chin behind me. When I looked over my shoulder, dozens of flickering green lights were hovering within the thick brush of the trees beyond the trail we rode on. I grinned like a child. Fireflies couldn’t survive in the chilly temperatures of the Night Court, but I’ve seen them when I traveled for assignments. “I’ve seen them before, but I’ve never seen them up close.”

“Do you want to catch some?”

After tying off the mare to a tree branch, we walked into the brush. There were hundreds of fireflies in the forest clearing, blinking and chirping as they hovered lazily. I held out my hands, hoping the beetles would crawl on my palms. Tamlin had better luck than I did, probably because they recognized their High Lord. He had three flickering fireflies on the back of his hand as he walked over and took my wrist.

“Do you know why fireflies light up as they do?” he asked softly. The wisps of light illuminating us outlined his gorgeous features, bringing out the deep green in his eyes. His smile made my heart race; I barely felt the tiny beetles crawling on my skin.

I knew the answer. “They’re finding mates.”

Tamlin smiled, watching the fireflies crawling over our joined hands. “I want you to know that I consider myself the luckiest male in the world to have you as my mate.”

I didn’t know what to say; I only felt my eyes sting with tears. His hand quickly cupped my cheek, prepared to wipe away any that dared to stain my skin. I wanted to be closer to him, to feel his soothing heat and smell the scent of fresh rain in his hair. I tiptoed, beckoning him to meet me halfway and he did, mindlessly leaning down to my level. 

Our lips brushed together hesitantly, nothing compared to the raw passion of our kiss in the Dawn Court. I knew Tamlin was holding back, probably trying not to lose himself in the feeling. I pulled away from him, touching his jawline in affection.

“I think you’ve found your light, Tamlin,” I told him. “I think you found it a long time ago.”

“I found it the moment I felt it snap into place,” he murmured against my cheek. “You were my light all along.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know about that, but I do know you love making a fool of me.”

Leaving the Spring Court felt heavy on my chest. I enjoyed helping with the rebuilding efforts and dancing at the revels. Tamlin was becoming much more comfortable in my presence. I could see the longing in his eyes, but I could also see the affection, the maddening love he couldn’t be discrete about no matter how hard he tried. 

“Rhiannon will be pleased to see Vulcan is back in business,” I teased as he placed the last sculpture in the burlap sack for easy winnowing. He smiled at me in that way that always seemed to knock the wind out of me.

“I’ve had a large burst of inspiration as of late,” he said. “Not sure what could’ve caused it.”

“Me neither.”

Tamlin took my hand in his, feeling the skin of my knuckles with his thumb before he leaned down to steal a kiss from me. I loved it when he did that; it made me feel afloat in his arms. When he suddenly pulled on our mating bond, I jumped. 

It was such an otherworldly feeling, so deep within me as if my soul was being tugged at. I turned my head with a shy smile, my cheeks burning up at the mere thought of the invisible string that tied us together. I couldn’t imagine what it’d feel like to finally take that string and stitch our souls together for eternity. It made me shiver.

“Let me know when you get to Velaris safely,” he told me. “When will you be back?”

“When Azriel says so,” I said. “And he’s not too happy about our arrangement.”

I said it teasingly, but Tamlin’s shoulders dropped. I immediately reassured him, “He’s wary, but he’d never stand in the way. Just know that if you hurt me, you’ll have three Illyrian warriors ready to collect your teeth.”

“I’m very aware of the risks.” He stole another kiss from me. “I’d never hurt you, Meiri. You’re the light of my life.”

I roared with laughter. “Again with the terrible courting?”

“It’s not _that_ terrible! I made you laugh, didn’t I?”

* * *

When I returned to Velaris, I let Tamlin know I arrived, dropped off Tamlin’s sculptures at Rhiannon’s office and then flew home. As I laid in bed, I told Tamlin a stupid story in between yawns before I finally trailed off and fell asleep.

Azriel had an easy assignment for me that morning, something I’d be able to get done in two days. My expression must have been confused enough to be humorous because it made Azriel laugh.

“You don’t have to sneak around me anymore,” he said. “I know you want to be in the Spring Court with your mate.”

“We’re not mates yet—not officially.”

“But you will be.” He said this with certainty. It made me blush. “You wouldn’t be giving this a chance if you were planning on rejecting the bond. I know you.”

“I think I’m in love with him,” I admitted shyly. “Do you think it’s too soon?”

“Of course not; love oftentimes happens quickly. You know Illyrians love wholeheartedly, to the point where it destroys us.”

“We’re a bunch of lovesick fools,” I groaned playfully. “Just look at Cassian.”

“Or me,” he joked lightly but a sliver of sadness loomed just below the surface. “I’m happy for you, Meiri.”

“You’re not skeptical?”

“I’d be skeptical with any male asking for your hand,” he said. “Rhys and Cassian would be too. You’re our little sister.”

“I hope you find happiness too, Az.” I boldly stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. He didn’t hesitate to return it. Despite his usual distaste for physical affection, he sometimes craved it. Especially when he yearned for something and couldn’t have it; he needed affection that grounded him even if he didn’t ask for it. “I know you don’t think so, but you deserve it.”

He sighed softly and pulled me tighter, his muscles tense with bottled emotions. I saw a lot of Tamlin in him: worthlessness that made him undeserving of anyone’s love in his eyes. He never sees the beautiful person he is both inside and out. 

* * *

When I returned to the Spring Court again, Tamlin was waiting at the steps of his estate like an elated child. He brought me in for an embrace and kissed me before I had a chance to greet him properly. 

“Here are your profits,” I said, handing him a coin bag. “I would’ve brought you cheese pastries, but you know what happened last time...”

Tamlin rolled his eyes playfully. “Speaking of food, I have an idea for lunch today—”

“Is it a picnic?”

“Am I that predictable?”

“Yes,” I laughed. “But I love every minute of it.”

“I don’t know about that, but I do know you love making a fool of me.”

We walked into the estate, the glorious rooms and halls bright with the afternoon sun and decorated beautifully with curtains, plush furniture, and new paintings on the walls. He’d told me that among some of the Summer Court workers were freelance painters and they’d graciously offered to fill the estate with their work. Tamlin let them paint to their heart’s desire while he carved the frames. Each of them looked marvelous.

With a blanket and picnic basket in hand, Tamlin helped me up on a horse before mounting his own. I’ve started to enjoy riding horses which has earned me a good amount of teasing from Tamlin.

“The mighty Illyrian warrior with oh-so-powerful wings rides a horse?”

“The mighty High Lord of Spring that transforms into a bear with deer antlers rides a horse?”

We rode through the sprawling fields of Spring, taking in the sweetness of the flowers and the warm breeze. We shared light conversation until Tamlin finally halted his stallion and jumped off to quickly help me dismount. We tied the horses to a nearby tree and walked through tall grass until we were underneath the cool shade of a massive oak tree. After we set the blanket down, Tamlin uncorked a bottle of wine and poured me a glass.

I watched him spread out various fruits and sandwiches on the blanket, careful not to drop anything. With his brute strength, he was often left with pieces of things in his hands or accidentally breaking things, despite having full control of his powers. Something told me he was just like that naturally: strong, clumsy, and a bit of an oaf. A wonderfully chaotic combination.

“I know that smile,” Tamlin said, snapping me out of my own thoughts. “You either think I’m handsome, or you’re going to make fun of me.”

“It’s the first,” I stuck my tongue out at him. “You look very dashing today.”

“Why do I still think you’re making fun of me?” He leaned forward, almost pressing our noses together. “Are you?”

“I mean it,” I said softly, letting him know I was serious. I saw the spark in his eyes simmer, glowing the way they did when he was looking at me like I was the only thing that existed in this world. It made my stomach flutter and the wine glass in my hand tremble. “You’re always handsome, Tamlin.”

I didn’t realize he was leaning over me, caging my legs with his own while his hands were anchored on either side of my hips. My wings flexed subconsciously, something he noticed. He quickly pulled away, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Sorry about that.”

“Sorry about what?”

“Making you uncomfortable.”

I let out a soft laugh. “Is that what you thought that was?” He eyed me skeptically until I explained, “You’re not making me uncomfortable; it’s exactly the opposite.”

He smiled crookedly. “I’m making progress with this courtship, then?”

My heart was knocking against my ribcage so quickly, it was like a battledrum in my ears. He looked so utterly beautiful, so unaware of what he was doing to me. Perhaps he smelled it on me but was in denial of what was right in front him. _There’s no way_ , he probably thought. _She couldn’t possibly love me—not yet._

Thoughtlessly, I took his broad shoulders in my hands and planted myself on his lap. He raised his hands up, startled by my sudden movement. His ears and cheeks were flushed red, his eyes darting all over my face as if trying to unravel my thoughts. I smiled and leaned into him, kissing him sweetly. I felt his hands rest on my hips tentatively, almost nervously. I took advantage of his momentary distraction and snuck one of my hands away from his shoulders.

When I pulled away from him, I couldn’t help but giggle at how dazed he looked. His senses returned to him quickly, though; his eyes focused on my face and his lips tugged into a relaxed grin. “Is that your answer to my question?”

“No,” I said. I brought my hand up and pressed a bright raspberry against his lips. “This is my answer.”

His eyes widened and his skin went ghostly pale. He looked absolutely spooked, like a statue frozen in the midst of something terrifying. His hands were trembling on my hips but he didn’t open his mouth. I could feel his ragged breaths from his nose against my knuckles.

I laughed softly, taking in how his eyes swam with both disbelief and utter joy. It was endearing. I figured he’d be shocked. I figured he’d freeze up and wouldn’t know what to do with himself. I figured he’d need proof.

And so, I raised my other hand. His eyes darted sideways just in time to see the tattoo of our bargain slowly fading to reveal smooth tanned skin. He didn’t meet my eyes again until the entirety of the ink disappeared. Only then did he part his lips for me and let me push the raspberry into his mouth. He chewed carefully, never looking away from my eyes. Not even blinking.

When he finally swallowed and licked his lips, I smiled, “Well?” 

“I didn’t think I’d get so far with my terrible courting.” He was smirking like a wolf cornering his prey. His hands were tightening around my hips, not enough to bruise but certainly enough to remind me I was now his. The primal look in his eyes said it all. “Now I don’t know what to do.”

“You need to make me yours, High Lord,” I teased, making a growl so feral erupt from his chest, I felt my blood run hot. “Or do I need to show you how?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Happy Holidays!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How rude,” I teased. I returned the favor and grabbed his very firm behind. “But two can play that game.”

The closer and closer we got to the estate, the more my stomach flopped. I couldn’t begin to fathom what it would be like to accept the bond and become mates. It’s a feeling no one can explain, it transcends speech and description. It must simply be felt, and if love was in the mix, it was otherworldly. 

Tamlin had buried the feral beast within him and calmly began to put away the food and the picnic blanket. When I teased him about his sudden change in behavior, he merely smirked.

“As much as I would enjoy taking you right here in the open, I have a court full of workers that need to be warned not to come anywhere near me for the next three weeks or so.”

My heart couldn’t stop thumping against my chest. 

Tamlin helped me off my horse when we arrived in front of the estate. He took the reins of both horses in one hand before leaning down to kiss me. It was soft but simmered with heated promise. “Go inside and wear something comfortable.”

“Easily accessible?” 

He whispered in my ear. “I said  _ comfortable _ .”

_ I’ll be in my room waiting for you _ , I told him mentally, running a hand over the vines guarding his mind.  _ Don’t take too long. _

He growled softly before pulling away from me with considerable effort and walking towards the stables. I hurried inside and once I walked into the room, I washed up and began looking for something simple to wear. I opted for a blouse and long skirt.

I was brushing my hair in front of the vanity mirror when I sensed an enormous surge of magic from all around me. I knew what it was immediately. Tamlin was throwing wards all around the perimeter; with that amount of raw power, no one would be able to come within spitting distance of the estate.

When Tamlin finally walked inside the room, he’d discarded his doublet and only wore his loose-fitting white shirt, riding trousers, and boots. His hair looked shinier than usual against the afternoon sun beaming through the window as did the deep green in his eyes. He was holding a large plate of assorted fruits and slices of bread in one hand and a pitcher of what looked to be lemonade in the other. 

“I brought something to eat just in case,” he said awkwardly, setting them down on a nearby table. His eyes were on me the entire time, as if he didn’t want to lose sight of me. “And I threw wards around the estate to keep everyone safe.”

“They know what’s about to happen?” I grinned, twirling the hairbrush in my hand. “You warned them to stay away?”

“They were very quick to get outside the wards,” he chuckled. 

I stood up from the vanity and approached him. He grunted at the feeling of my body against his; he couldn’t resist wrapping his arms around me to anchor me there. I was incredibly amused to feel him embrace me around my lower waist, below the arch of my wings.

“You can touch my wings, Tamlin,” I whispered to him. “I give you permission.”

I flared out my right wing, stretching it out enough to cast a shadow against the back wall. Tamlin hesitantly withdrew his hand away from my waist and lightly pressed his fingers against the inner membrane. I couldn’t help the pleasurable sigh that left my lips as I pressed my forehead against his chest.

“How does that feel?” he asked, tracing the delicate bone lining my wing. 

“Like a feather against your skin.” I shivered as his palm pressed against my flesh, clouding my vision with a blissful feeling that made my toes curl. “Illyrian wings are very sensitive.”

“Is it true that there’s a certain part—”

“Yes,” I laughed, knowing exactly what he was asking. “I actually can’t reach it with my hands, so I have to get creative.”

Tamlin’s ears flushed red as a deep growl erupted from his chest. “You’ve never let anyone touch your wings like this?”

“Even though I hate almost all Illyrian traditions, I still follow that old Illyrian rule: only a husband or mate should touch a female’s wings in any way.” I wrapped my arms around his broad chest, bringing him close as I smelled the soothing fresh pine scent of his skin. “That rule always stuck with me for some reason.”

“I’m honored,” he said, kissing my lips softly. I melted against him, but thankfully he held me up with his arms, his fingers ghosting over the edges of wings. I couldn’t help but moan into his mouth and tug at his shirt. He understood instantly and parted from me long enough to slip the garment over his head and toss it aside.

I wanted to admire the impressively muscled chest before me, but he pulled me into another heated kiss. His hands trailed down to my hips and pulled down my skirt roughly, letting it pool around my ankles. He then squeezed my ass, chuckling as he did so. He’s obviously fantasized about doing that quite a lot; he looked like a mischievous child.

“How rude,” I teased. I returned the favor and grabbed his very firm behind. “But two can play that game.”

I gasped when he hauled me into the air, his arms wrapping around the back of my thighs to hold me in place. Heat sparked into each of my nerves; I never knew how much his raw strength would turn me on. He apparently smelled it on me because he growled and hurried to the canopied bed at the end of the room. He carefully set me down at the edge of the mattress and kissed me again, kicking off his boots and tugging at my blouse. 

“Can I tear this off?” he grumbled against my mouth. 

“No! It’s my favorite!” It was a lie, but it was amusing to see him pout irritably and begin to carefully unbutton the clasps on the back and help me out of it. I think he knew I was teasing him; he smirked wickedly as he tossed my blouse aside. I was about to ask what he was grinning about until his large hand pressed up against the space between my wings. His fingers began exploring, poking around in a seemingly erratic way, but I knew what he was looking for. 

“The clasps on your clothes are on places you reach,” he began. I was trembling in his arms, his fingers getting closer and closer. He was taking in my reaction, taking in my cues. He was so close… “So it would make sense it would be—” I cut him off when I yelped and arched my back against him. He laughed.

It only took seconds for his dangerous fingers to make me see stars. I was thrashing against him, curling my toes and whimpering as tears rolled down my cheeks. He anchored me against him deliciously, kissing down my neck, my chest, my breasts. My body was reacting on its own, too much pleasure coursing through it all at once and going against my better judgement. 

I was a panting, trembling mess when he parted from me, running his eyes over the length of me to take me in entirely. I couldn’t take it anymore. My heart was hammering in my chest, my body ready for him and my soul humming for his. I reached for his trousers, undoing the ties hastily.

“Please, Tamlin,” I begged him. We’ve done this before, but my heart was pounding against my chest. I could feel his skin trembling underneath my fingertips. He was nervous too. “I’m yours—make me yours.”

“I’m yours, Meiri,” he said huskily. He took my breath away with a kiss as he did away with his trousers and settled between my thighs. I felt him against me, hot and ready, teasing me one final time. “Entirely yours.”

He pushed inside me in one fluid movement; we both groaned at the magical feeling. I wrapped my limbs around him, my nails digging into his shoulder blades. The feeling of his muscles tensing on his back made my head spin. His hair was billowing around us, enticing me with his scent of fresh pine.

He thrust once. Slowly. Deeply. Nothing like last time. He was careful, loving.

My voice trembled, the indescribable feeling making it difficult to think and form words. But I managed. “I love you, Tamlin.”

He whimpered, holding me so close, his shoulders brushed against my wings spread entirely over the mattress. He kissed my neck and rolled his hips faster.

“My light,” he whispered shakily. His cheeks were wet with warm tears, his voice wavering. “The light of my life.”

I felt the bond right there and then, snapping into that empty space in my soul I never knew was empty in the first place. It was overwhelming to feel so full so suddenly; I cried out at the feeling. Tamlin groaned against me, kissing me until my head spun. Our souls stitched together with every thrust, forming an unbreakable seam. We pulled tighter and tighter, the threads of our very beings stretched taut. 

We moved and breathed as one. Our tears mixed together on our cheeks, our kisses salty with them. Our scents merged, the bond intensifying with every whispered word that left our lips. He was mine and I was his—a bond that transcended all comprehension and logic. A bond that must be felt rather than explained. A bond that drew the soul from your body and crafted it into something akin to perfection. 

My release tore through me, my back arching off the bed and my wings splaying out as if I were about to take flight. It certainly felt like it. Tamlin was relentless, continuing to worship my body even as I went limp underneath him. His thrusts became sloppy and uneven, drawing out my pleasure as he neared his. He buried himself deep inside me and cried out my name, hurling himself over the edge of our pleasure and humming with the warmth that followed.

I shifted comfortably on my side and latched onto Tamlin’s chest, his soft humming mesmerizing me. His fingers traced lazy circles around my arms and shoulders, his lips pressing against my forehead from time to time. The silence between us was soothing; no words were necessary anymore. We were one. 

Tamlin was first to speak. He was playing with the rounded tip of my ear. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“If you attempt to leave this bed, I’ll grapple you down.”

Tamlin roared with laughter. “Oh, I’d love to see you try!”

“Be careful what you wish for,” I smirked. “How long is it before the frenzy kicks in?”

“I’d say about fifteen minutes or so. Why?”

I climbed on top of him, purposefully grinding against his hips and making him groan. He was already hard against my thigh. “I want you.”

I think Cassian was right about Illyrian females.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Happy New Year!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t think for a second I’m not crazy with desire for you—I’m controlling myself for both our sakes. My court will wither away if I let myself ravage you as I want to.”

I lost track of the days. The primal instinct coursing through every nerve in my body was maddening. I couldn’t gaze upon Tamlin without feeling like I’d burst into flames, I couldn’t touch him without craving more of him, I couldn’t kiss him without feeling breathless. All we wanted was to be tangled up in each other, to merge our bodies into one against all sensibility.

Eventually, that animalistic and insatiable need slowly began to dissolve. I could finally look at my mate without pouncing on him; I could admire the sharpness of his jaw and the emerald green of his eyes, and I could trace the many scars on his chest and arms. I could kiss him without feeling like there was a roaring flame within me and I could touch him without the prickling of electricity on my skin. I could finally hear his voice and not feel the uncontrollable urge to have him ravage me.

“We need to contact a High Priestess to officiate our bond,” Tamlin said. His fingers were tracing the tattoos inked over my shoulder blades absentmindedly as I lay on my belly next to him. The bedroom was dim with dusk; the sun was only minutes from peeking over the horizon. He added, “Do you want a separate ceremony for our marriage?”

“I think that’s a bit much.”

“I agree.” He smiled crookedly. “Rhysand crashed my last wedding, so I’m a bit wary of getting married and having him around.”

I burst into laughter. “There’s an Illyrian tradition that brothers of the bride challenge the groom to a fight to test his prowess in combat.”

“Right, so I have to fight the High Lord of the Night Court, his general, and his spymaster,” Tamlin narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously. “All at once, or one at a time?”

“You think you can win?”

“If it means I can marry you if I do, then I’ll fight to the death.”

“Defeats the purpose, no?”

I laughed as Tamlin pushed me onto my back and towered over me. I squirmed under his intense gaze, wiggling my wings into a comfortable position. He smoothed his palm against one of them, making me sigh. It didn’t take him long to learn the intricacies of my wings; he already knew how to make me melt with the simplest touch. 

“To think I’m stuck with you for the rest of my immortal life,” he said. His lips were trailing down my chest and over my belly. 

I breathed out one last tease, “What a disgusting thought, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely revolting.”

The morning sun decided to make its appearance at the moment, bright orange and yellow beaming across the room like ribbons. I didn’t even notice, not with Tamlin’s tongue making stars cloud my vision. Just when I wanted more, he stopped abruptly. He even had the audacity to smirk at me when I glared down at him.

“Is there a problem, Meiri?”

“You’ll pay for that,” I warned him, pulling him up to kiss him deeply. He hummed against my lips, obviously unbothered by my threat or perhaps looking forward to it. 

Just feeling his body flush against mine was enough to make my head spin and my skin tingle. I felt our bond go rigid in my ribcage, as if grounding us and reminding us it was there, sturdy and unbreakable. I knew Tamlin felt it too; he let out a soft sigh against my shoulder. It was a soothing feeling, knowing you always have your mate’s comforting arms to embrace you and that invisible string that will always lead you to them when you need them most.

We made love well into the morning, not wanting to leave the warmth of our embrace. But the grumbling of our stomachs had Tamlin leave the bed to look for food in the kitchens. He returned with a plate of fruit, bread and cheese, and a pitcher of fresh orange juice. 

We ate our breakfast in bed. I’d feed Tamlin some sliced fruit whenever he leaned over and opened his mouth. He especially loved when I’d reach for a raspberry, the one little fruit that united our souls. 

“What’s expected of me as High Lady of Spring?” I asked, genuinely curious. I’ve gone from lethally-trained spy to ruling a court alongside my mate. Perhaps it was the same as running a spy ring but without the secrecy?

“There’s nothing expected of you,” he said before his lips curl into a smile. “Though I would love it if you wore dresses from time to time.”

“Like the one from Starfall?”

“Do you still have it?” When I nodded, a smirk spread across his handsome features. “I want to make love to you in that dress.”

“Noted.” I tried to appear nonchalant, but his words made lightning bolts shoot through me. I knew exactly where the dress was in my closet and the thought of Tamlin pulling up my skirts and gripping my hips in those large hands…

“I’ll teach you everything you need to know about running the court,” Tamlin said, plopping a cut of cheese into his mouth. “The finances are tedious since it’s all paperwork, but it’s not hard.” He smiled softly. “Lucien taught me how to balance the ledgers.”

“He’s still in correspondence with you?”

“I told him he could return home if he wanted to.” Tamlin’s smile lit up the entire bedchamber. “And he said it’d be an honor to serve as our emissary.”

“You told him about me?”

Tamlin’s pointed ears turned pink. “I told him everything; he was surprised to find out who you were.”

Lucien and I had met briefly when Azriel and I interrogated him last year in the House of Wind. I couldn’t imagine how strange he’d think this all was.

After we cleaned up and got dressed, we finally ventured out of the bedchamber. Judging by the dust that accumulated on the paintings on the walls, we’d been cooped up for a bit over two weeks. When I pointed it out to Tamlin, he chuckled.

“Don’t think for a second I’m not crazy with desire for you—I’m controlling myself for both our sakes. My court will wither away if I let myself ravage you as I want to.”

The same could be said about me, but I wasn’t so verbally blunt. Instead, I made my bottled-up desire obvious to him by pressing the length of my body against his. He let out a sharp sigh, no doubt smelling my need for him. 

“Meiri,” he scolded halfheartedly. I was tiptoeing and kissing along his jawline while one of my hands was tracing over the waistband of his trousers. “We’ll get nothing done if we keep this up.”

“We’ll have servants in the corridors soon,” I teased. He was already standing at attention against my palm. “We won’t get to do this in the future...”

It didn’t take much to convince him to indulge me. He took me by the waist, laid me over the cold tile of the corridor, and began unbuttoning his trousers as I hiked up my skirt. We were laughing at the ridiculousness of this, how utterly ravenous we were being. Our hearts were pounding in our chests as if this were the first time; our minds still didn’t comprehend we had eternity together. 

“I hope this feeling—” I cut myself off abruptly. His insistent thrusts were making it hard to think straight. “I hope it never goes away.”

He groaned against my ear. His hands would no doubt leave marks on my thighs, but I didn’t care. He managed to speak coherently, “I doubt it ever will, my love.”

I whimpered at the pet name, loving the way it sounded. I silently encouraged him by running my fingertips over his pointed ears, something he seemed to enjoy. He shivered against me and thankfully understood my silent plea as he muttered, “Oh, my love.”

I moaned his name as I felt my release rock through my body. Tamlin held me against him, pulling me almost entirely off the floor. When he found his release shortly after, he set me down gently and collapsed on top of me, panting rapidly. I ran my fingertips over his ears absentmindedly, loving the delicate curve of them. He was purring at my touch.

“What were we doing before this happened?” I asked with a laugh.

“I believe we were going outside.” His chest was rumbling against mine, joining my laughter. “I was going to remove the wards and tell everyone it’s safe now.”

“You sure you won’t maul anyone that looks my way?”

“I’m absolutely sure.”

“Positively sure?” 

“Ironically enough, I have more self control than you.” He pulled away from my embrace, kneeling before me as he fixed his trousers. “These are brand new floors, you know.”

“They needed to be broken in,” I insisted, nudging his shoulder with my foot. “They were too new and shiny for my liking.”

“I suppose the dining room table and the gallery floor need to be broken in as well?”

“I don’t think I like your tone, High Lord.” I sat up, crossing my arms across my chest defiantly. He was utterly amused by my behavior and simultaneously aroused. I was lucky we’d just broken in these floors, or else I felt he’d have me again now—and probably against the wall or a window sill. “Get snarky with me again, and I won’t wear my Starfall gown for you.”

“You’ll have no more snark from me, my Lady,” he quickly said. He took my hand and kissed it dramatically. “I would love to break in the dining room table and the gallery floor whenever you so please.”

He was wiggling his eyebrows and smirking like a fool. He knew I couldn’t resist him. I rolled my eyes, “You’re lucky you’re so handsome.”

“One of my more redeeming qualities.” 

He helped me up on my feet, bringing me close and leaning down to take my breath away with a kiss. I couldn’t help the words leaving my lips, “I love you, Tamlin.”

He smiled and it almost made my knees buckle. “And I you, my love.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The best flirtation tactic is wanting to kill you,” Amren grinned. “I love a passionate male.”

When Tamlin dissolved the wards around the estate, we made our way down the entrance hall and out the front doors. The morning sun was pleasantly warm and the sweet smell of freshly opened flowers overwhelmed my senses. The Spring Court was lovely when in full bloom, and it made my heart flutter to think that I would soon be ruling over this land alongside my mate.

Hand in hand, we stepped out into the porch. A lone Fae worker appeared on the gravel walkway some distance away, eyes wide with curiosity before his face lit up with a smile. 

“I was tasked with keeping watch over the wards,” he said as he approached and bowed in respect. “To notify the others when you finally took them down.”

“I take it you all missed me?” Tamlin joked.

“Not just us, my Lord—and Lady.” He bowed his head at me respectfully. “We are all in the village waiting for your return.”

We thought he was referring to the Summer Court workers. They were there in the village center; I recognized the females I danced with often at the revels and the males that played their instruments alongside Tamlin, the young male that maintained the stables and some of the gardeners and housemaids. But among them was a large group of Fae that I didn’t recognize, but Tamlin did. He went rigid at my side.

“I told you I’d be back, my Lord!” a Fae male stepped out from the crowd. “And when I heard you’d found your mate, I had to come and congratulate you!”

I immediately assumed this was the tavern keeper Tamlin said he’d contacted a while back; he said he was eager to return to his old post, and it seemed he brought along a good chunk of the Fae that lived in this village. 

Tamlin was speechless. His hand was squeezing mine, trembling from the utter shock and simultaneous joy. His emotions were in conflict with each other, making him stare at his people in disbelief. I couldn’t help but smile, my eyes stinging from a few stray tears.

A child with dark brown hair decorated with ribbons and a simple baby blue dress skipped over to us. Her mother called out to her in a hushed tone, the little girl obviously having wiggled away from her grasp. 

The girl’s eyes were big and blue as they lit up with her cheerful smile. In her hands was a hand-picked bunch of wildflowers, roots and all, which she held up to me.

“For me?” I gasped playfully as I knelt down to her level. I took the flowers from her tiny hands and sniffed them. “Did you pick them yourself?”

When the little girl nodded, I pinched her cheek. “They’re beautiful! Thank you!”

“Can you  _ really _ fly?”

“Yes, I can.”

The little girl hummed in awe as her mother approached from behind her, taking her tiny shoulders in her hands. The female smiled sheepishly, “I apologize for her boldness, my Lady.”

“Do not apologize,” I said, rising to my feet. “Illyrians admire the bold and honor the brave, and your daughter is both.”

“See, mama?” the little girl looked up at her mother. “Bold and brave!”

Then, two males stepped forward from the crowd. Both were tall, dark-haired, and broad-shouldered. I could tell they were warriors from their stance and the stern look in their eyes, especially as they met Tamlin’s gaze.

“You’ve come back,” Tamlin couldn’t help but say. I feared Tamlin couldn’t take any more surprises without fainting. I reached out and squeezed his hand while my mind touched his gently, trying to ground him in reality. 

“We had to see it for ourselves,” said the black-haired one. He glanced at me and bowed his head, “My name is Hart, and this is Bron.” He gestured at the other male, who also bowed respectfully. “We were once Tamlin’s sentinels.”

“I’m happy to see you both again,” Tamlin said. “I owe you—and all of my people—an apology for my actions. I hope that with my efforts to restore the Spring Court, I can make up for my past mistakes, though I expect no quick forgiveness.”

“You’ll have to earn our trust again,” Bron said. “But we will serve our High Lord as we once did, and we will serve our High Lady.”

“Word travels quickly,” I laughed with a blush on my cheeks. “But we’d need—”

“A High Priestess?” Hart said with a smile. “We’ve sent word of your mating bond to Lucien, and he’s currently on his way with a High Priestess to host your ceremony.”

Tamlin and I looked at each other in surprise. The tavern owner chimed in, “We have drinks and the females are preparing food for the festivities. Once the Priestess arrives, we’ll begin decorating.”

“Thank you,” Tamlin whispered, eyeing his people with firm eyes. “I’ve done nothing to earn this treatment from any of you, and yet, you’re doing this for my mate and I.” Tamlin squeezed my hand for emphasis. “You’re good people, and it is an honor to be your High Lord.”

The Fae villagers burst into applause, happy to finally be home and safe from war, to see their High Lord with his mate, to see their court blooming and rebuilt. It was strange to me to see such a spectacle; Illyrians are slow to forgive and firm with their grudges. These people have gone through war and betrayal, and yet, here they are, choosing to give another chance to their fallen High Lord, choosing to forgive. Some would call it foolhardy, but others would call it wise—the change in their High Lord is obvious as is his efforts to restore this land, and they see it.

As Tamlin approached each villager, taking their hands to greet and thank them, the little girl approached me again. She tugged on my skirt, beckoning me to kneel to her height. She whispered, as if her mother would scold her if she heard her. “How high can you fly?”

“Very high.” I pointed up into the cerulean blue sky. “I can touch the clouds if I want to.”

“Are they soft like pillows?”

“Do you want to touch one and see?” I asked. When she nodded quickly, I laughed and took her hand. “Let’s go ask your mama if you can touch the clouds and I’ll take you.”

It amused me to watch the little girl list off the reasons why she should touch a cloud to her mother. The latter was visibly wary of such a prospect, but I assured her it wouldn’t be a problem. As her mother warned her to hold on tight and not let go, I speared my mind into Tamlin’s.

_ Could you conjure a pillow-soft cloud above us? I don’t want her to touch vapor and ruin her innocence. _

When I turned my head in Tamlin’s direction, his eyes met mine and he nodded. Getting my cue, I knelt down for the girl. “Ready?”

She fearlessly wrapped her arms around my neck and held on tightly as I situated her on my hip. After one quick wave to her mother, I spread my wings and hurled myself into the air. The girl squealed in delight, laughing as her hair flew in all directions. As promised, Tamlin’s conjured cloud was situated a bit lower than a normal cloud would be. It even looked like one, but the moment the little girl reached out, her little fingers squeezed a feather-soft mound. 

Suddenly, a familiar set of talons touched my mind.

_ I take it the frenzy is over with? _

_ Our spies are very diligent. I taught them well. _

_ Azriel had them pulled out. They’ve been compromised, after all. _

_ Very funny. Good luck spying on us now. _

His chuckle echoed in my mind.  _ Congratulations, Meiri. I wish you and Tamlin nothing but happiness. _

_ Thanks, Rhys. I appreciate it _ . I paused, knowing his hesitation meant something was amiss.  _ What’s the matter? _

Rhysand’s voice was wavering in joy.  _ My son was born yesterday morning. _

_ Congratulations!  _ I nearly shrieked in excitement. The little girl in my arms was still distracted with the cloud.  _ How’s Feyre doing? _

_ She’s doing just fine; she’s doing better than me _ , he said jokingly. He was still in a limbo, still unbelieving.  _ I’m holding him now. He’s asleep. _

He sent me a flash of his newborn son, pink and with a tuft of thick dark hair, bundled up in a blanket. 

_ I’ll be in Velaris as soon as I can! _

After the little girl had her fill of touching the floating pillow, I descended and gave her back to her mother. I then rushed to Tamlin, who was chatting with his sentinels and a few other male Spring Court villagers.

“Excuse me, but can I borrow my mate for a second?” I interrupted sweetly and whisked Tamlin out of earshot from the others. “Rhys and Feyre’s son was born yesterday.”

He smiled at the news. “Go to Velaris. I’ll handle things here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He took my cheeks and kissed me deeply. My knees almost buckled. “In the gallery, there’s a box with a tag addressed to Rhys and Feyre. It’s my gift to their son.”

I kissed him one more time before taking off to the skies, banking north towards the estate. After landing on the patio, I made my way inside and into the gallery. The box Tamlin was referring to was tucked into the corner near his finished sculptures. When I opened it, I couldn’t help but smile.

They were children’s toys carved from smooth wood: a few rattles of various shapes and sizes, silhouettes of a rabbit, a dog, and a horse all with built-in wheels, and a set of building blocks. I was touched by his simple gesture; he genuinely wanted to build good relations with my family and despite his past with both Rhys and Feyre, he’s willing to set that aside for me. 

I wiped a lone tear from my cheek before taking the box and winnowing to Velaris.

* * *

My first stop was my apartment to pick up my own gift for the baby’s arrival: knitted sweaters from a family-owned shop in the Rainbow that were too cute to pass up on. They were even nice enough to have them done with slits on the back for the baby’s wings, should they be visible. Illyrian children are born with tiny wings that grow with them, but Rhys, being half-Fae, would often make his wings appear and reappear as a toddler until he learned to control them. With his son being only quarter Illyrian, I had them done that way just in case he’d develop like Rhysand did. 

Everyone was at the new estate, now completely remodeled and beautiful. They were gathered in the drawing room, cooing over the new addition to the family bundled in Feyre’s arms. When I came into the room, Cassian was first to tease.

“And the High Lady of Spring graces us with her presence,” he said with a dramatic bow. “What an honor!”

“Piss off, Cassian,” I jabbed him in the ribs before turning to Rhys and Feyre, their faces flushed and a seemingly permanent grin spread on their lips. “Congratulations, both of you! And I’ve brought gifts for the little devil.”

“Thank you, Meiri,” Rhys said, taking the box from me. “Let me guess: sweaters?”

“You know me too well,” I laughed. “There’s also a few gifts in there from Vulcan himself—he sends his best wishes for the baby.”

Feyre leaned over to peek into the box as Rhys opened it; he was chuckling as he shook a rattle in one hand while the other held one of the specially designed sweaters. “My son will be so spoiled by all of you.”

Much to the relief of the males, the baby boy was born with tiny wings just like a full-blooded Illyrian. The three brothers were gushing about it like a group of hens. Mor, Feyre, Amren, and I simply rolled our eyes playfully.

“Congratulations, by the way,” Mor said. “Who knew carving a sculpture was such a good flirtation tactic?”

“The best flirtation tactic is wanting to kill you,” Amren grinned. “I love a passionate male.”

“Sure, Amren,” Mor scoffed lightly. “ _ Passionate. _ ”

“Are you already High Lady?” Feyre asked.

I shook my head. “Lucien is coming to the Spring Court and he’s bringing a High Priestess with him. He should be there by the time I return.”

“We’ll miss you, you know,” Mor pouted. “You’ll visit often, right?”

“Velaris will always be my home; I’ll come by during the holidays and on birthdays,” I nodded towards the Illyrian males still gushing over the newborn. “And with that little devil, it’ll be hard not to bring gifts every time.”

The baby suddenly began hiccuping with shrieking cries; only the Mother knows what those Illyrians did to wake that newborn up. Feyre rushed over to them, taking the baby in her arms and stepping out of the room to settle him down. Rhysand, unable to be left behind, stood just outside the doorframe to watch his wife and mate rock their child back to sleep. 

“When should we expect one of those from you?” Cassian asked with a broad grin. His attitude towards my mating bond with Tamlin changed for the better; he no doubt saw me glowing with the love I felt for my mate. Cassian was the most observant of all of us. 

“I doubt we’ll be having children any time soon,” I laughed nervously. My stomach fluttered pleasantly at the thought of carrying a baby inside me. A little creature Tamlin and I made. “We haven’t even talked about it.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Amren wiggled her eyebrows. “He's the High Lord of Spring—he’s  _ fertile _ .”

* * *

It was late afternoon when everyone left the Sidra estate. Rhys and Feyre turned in with their son, Cassian shot into the skies to deal with the Illyrian camps, and Amren and Mor went their separate ways along the Sidra. I was about to winnow to my apartment when Azriel stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. His hair was whipping around his solemn face and his hazel eyes bore into mine thoughtfully. His stance was a bit awkward, which was something very unlike him.

“Trying to find the right way to officially discharge me of duty?” I asked playfully.

“I think that goes without saying,” he joked dryly. “You’re returning to the Spring Court now?”

“I was going to pick up a few things in my apartment before I leave.”

“If you’ll have me, I would like to be present at your ceremony.”

I was shocked by his request. “I’m not obligating any of you to go: Amren and Mor hate ceremonies, Cassian’s dealing with the Illyrian camps, and Rhys and Feyre just had their son. Things are still awkward—”

“I admire you for following your heart and choosing to believe there is good in everyone despite their actions in the past,” he said. “I’ve always respected you for your ability to see that in others and I respect you for standing next to your mate and choosing love.”

“Oh, Azriel,” I sighed softly and pulled him into a hug. I knew where he was coming from—he still struggled with thoughts of his father, stepmother, and half-siblings, on whether to forgive or hold onto grudges. Our Illyrian blood usually pulled us towards the former, but Azriel always tries to forgo his heritage and his Illyrian instincts. He secretly resents them. “You can choose not to forgive and not hold a grudge, and you can choose to forgive without being weak.”

“Illyrians are so complicated.”

“We’re not complicated,” I teased. “It just takes someone very smart to solve our puzzle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing was planned. Everything was spur of the moment. I absolutely loved it.

When Azriel and I arrived in the Spring Court, the estate was buzzing with villagers and workers rushing around as they made the preparations for the ceremony. There was nothing extravagant; just a few linen-covered tables with fresh fruit and drinks, floating faelights, and bouquets of budded flowers from the gardens. Tamlin’s mother’s roses were slumbering, the buds closed and looked almost burgundy. 

Tamlin sensed my presence immediately and was at my side within seconds of my arrival. He greeted Azriel with a handshake.

“I don’t suppose you’re here to challenge me to a fight?” Tamlin joked. “Meiri told me about the Illyrian tradition between brothers of the bride and the male stupid enough to marry her.”

“The fight is only necessary if there’s a sliver of doubt on your fighting abilities, and I have none.” Azriel gave him a lopsided grin, making Tamlin chuckle. “I hope I am not the spectre at the feast.”

“Of course not; I’m happy you’re here to support Meiri. You can stay for as long as you like,” Tamlin said before waving a hand to someone behind us. When I turned my head, I saw none other than Lucien Vanserra approaching. He looked no different than the last time I saw him; fiery red hair, golden clockwork eye, and strikingly handsome. 

“We meet again, but I’ll admit I didn’t expect these circumstances,” Lucien began diplomatically. “As I recall, I was interrogated by both of you the moment I stepped foot in Velaris.”

“Occupational hazard,” I said jokingly. A shiver ran up my spine when I felt Tamlin’s hand press against my lower back affectionately. “I hear you’ll be staying in the Spring Court?”

“Someone needs to host luncheons for the courtiers,” Lucien smirked when Tamlin rolled his eyes. “Unless you’d prefer doing that?”

* * *

It was nearly sundown when the High Priestess announced the commencement of the ceremony. A few female Spring Court villagers followed me into the estate to help me get dressed. I’d secretly brought my Starfall gown from Velaris, and while the females around me were confused by my choice, they all assumed it was just a difference in court culture.

“Here in the Spring Court, grooms wear green and gold while the bride wears gold,” the female pinning up my hair told me. “But if you are marrying your mate, then the bride wears pink.” 

“This dress is special,” I grinned into the mirror. “Tamlin wouldn’t mind breaking protocol to see me in it.”

“You look stunning regardless, my Lady,” she said with a smile. Her daughter, the little girl obsessed with my ability to fly, appeared at my side. She rested her elbows on my lap to hold her chin up; she acted as if we knew each other for centuries. Her mother was visibly embarrassed, but I only laughed. I found it quite endearing.

“You look really pretty,” she said. “Does the High Lord like your wings too?”

I’d say too much. “Yes, he loves me just the way I am.”

“Is that other male your brother?” 

“Yes, he is.”

“Can he touch the clouds too?”

“Yes, he can.”

The little girl’s eyes lit up, but I couldn’t help but laugh at her mother’s look of exasperation. I wished her luck in keeping this rambunctious child within her grasp, and she only laughed. “If only!”

* * *

I always thought I’d be nervous when I walked down the aisle towards my future husband on my wedding day, and the thought of said husband being my mate would nearly make me faint. Surprisingly enough, I am very at ease. My heart is beating against my chest, but not out of nervousness—it’s the mere excitement of seeing my mate again, of seeing his face when he sees me in this dress. I could feel his soothing aura on the other side of my mind, that string tying us together pulling at me the closer and closer I walked in his direction.

The High Priestess was standing underneath the evergreen dogwood tree in the gardens. At her side was Tamlin, dressed in a tunic of green and gold, brown riding trousers, and boots. His golden hair was billowing over his shoulders, adorned with a haphazard crown of laurel leaves. Among the onlooking villagers, I saw Lucien and Azriel.

When Tamlin lifted his gaze in my direction, I could almost hear the breath being drawn from him. I only smirked as I walked to him, swaying playfully as I held my bouquet of tulips the little girl had gathered and her mother tied off with a rustic string. Nothing was planned. Everything was spur of the moment. I absolutely loved it.

And by the look of utter affection in Tamlin’s eyes when I finally stood before him, I knew he loved it too. His posture sagged the moment I was within arm’s reach of him.

The High Priestess began by thanking the Mother and the Cauldron for setting us on each other’s paths, for uniting us in both love and soul. We were mates, and mates were blessed to hold a bond like no other, to be stronger together rather than separately. 

“Has the female presented her mate with food, and has therefore accepted her mating bond?” the High Priestess asked.

Tamlin nodded. “She has.”

“You may present your mating gift.”

Lucien approached with a wooden box in his hands. Tamlin opened it and first produced a set of beautiful bracelets, each carved in a different design and different colored wood. He took my hand and slipped each one onto my wrist. He then turned to the box again and pulled out a wooden ring, intricately carved to perfectly fit my ring finger. Again, he turned to the box and held out a lovely wooden tiara, carefully placing it on my head. Just when I thought I was at the brink of tears, he reached into the box one last time.

“I finished this one just now,” he said with an awkward chuckle. In his hands was a carved necklace, the wooden pendant hollow and holding a deep yellow stone. It was my Siphon. “I asked Azriel to take your Siphon from your dressing room after you were done.”

He clasped it around my neck, the stone warm and familiar against my chest. I was biting my lip, trying my hardest to be an Illyrian warrior and not shed a single tear. 

“In the eyes of the Mother and Cauldron, you are husband and mate.” The High Priestess scattered a blueish powder over Tamlin’s head. She turned to me and did the same. “In the eyes of the Mother and Cauldron, you are wife and mate.”

The sun was setting, painting the gardens in hues of orange and yellow. The High Priestess’ robes looked almost dark grey as the silver diadem on her forehead gleamed. Magic stirred all around us as she swayed. “In the eyes of the Divine who rule over Prythian and its magic, I proclaim you, Meiri, as High Lady of the Spring Court, alongside your husband and mate, High Lord Tamlin of the Spring Court.”

Immediately, every single flower in the garden bloomed; the roses, the violets, the gardenias, the lilies, the petunias. The laurel leaves on Tamlin’s head multiplied and grew in size and my bouquet of tulips did the same. The dogwood tree above us burst with beautiful white flowers. The nearby plum and peach trees suddenly grew fruit. The grass beneath us grew with weeds and wildflowers, vines twisted and knotted themselves around benches and tree trunks and the estate’s marble pillars. Fireflies began blinking all around us, seemingly appearing out of thin air. Birds began chirping, insects began buzzing, animals began mewling in the distance.

“The magic of the land has accepted you, High Lady,” the High Priestess said. Her eyes were almost rolled entirely into the back of her head, the magic feeding into her like a fountain. The symphony of animal sounds and the sweet smell of nectar and flowers made the scene much more entrancing. “The land will budge to your whim. The High Lord takes its form, but it is you who makes it prosper.”

Tamlin and I looked at each other, a goofy grin plastered on our faces. The crowd of villagers cheered as we shared a kiss. I gave my bouquet of overgrown tulips to Azriel jokingly, telling him they were blessed by the land and by me. He merely rolled his eyes, but accepted them nonetheless. 

Summer Court workers and some of the villagers began playing music and dancing. Others chatted and ate and drank wine. Lucien and some villagers stood around us, engaging us in small conversation. The females gushed over my wooden tiara and bracelets while I explained what the Siphon on my throat did and what it meant to an Illyrian. 

“We’ll have to see what your new powers can do,” Lucien pointed out as he sipped on white wine. “According to the Priestess, you make it prosper, and going by the little show the Spring Court made for us...”

“I’m sure Tamlin will help me with that,” I volleyed the subject onto my mate. He seemed dazed and took a few seconds to come back to this dimension.

“In all honesty, I never took my powers as High Lord very seriously,” he admitted. “I doubt I’ve harnessed the entirety of its power.”

“Just lovely. Two morons with absolutely no idea how to use the magic of this court,” I laughed. “Lucien, please stay. We need you.”

“Oh, I’m entirely aware the fate of this court rests on my shoulders,” Lucien teased and glanced at Tamlin. “I expect a raise in my wages.”

“I’ll add that to my neverending list of pending duties,” Tamlin said. His hand on my waist was soothing. I let my wings sag just a bit, but not enough to drag on the floor. Azriel would kill me if he saw me do such a thing. Where was he, anyway? 

“I’m doing away with the Tithe,” Tamlin continued. “We need to find alternatives to it.”

Lucien looked up in thought. “We can try a tax system. It works well in the human lands and I believe the Solar Courts also have one…”

The conversation drowned out of my ears as I looked around for Azriel. It wasn’t hard to pick him out in the crowd with his Illyrian leathers and enormous wings. Just as I’d expected, the little girl was bouncing on her heels as she gazed up at him, her lips moving rapidly with endless questions. Azriel's patience was doing him well as he answered each one with a nod or a shake of his head. The girl’s mother, embarrassed with her daughter’s boldness, was blushing furiously. In her hands was the bouquet of blooming tulips I’d given Azriel after the ceremony.

* * *

The revelry continued well into the night. After a few whirls around the dance circles and a few bites to eat and glasses of sparkling wine, Tamlin and I snuck away from the crowd and hurried into the estate. We immediately latched onto each other, Tamlin lifting me off my feet as he kissed me furiously. 

“You knew what this dress would do to me,” he said, hurrying down the corridor to our private quarters. To our wedding bed. “You’re a wicked little thing.”

“I’m not little!” I pouted, even as he swung me over his shoulder and nearly kicked down the bedchamber door. He pushed it shut and set me down. His deep green eyes were molten with desire, moving in all directions as he took in every inch of my form in the gown. For a moment, his gaze softened as he looked upon his mating gift on my hand, neck, and head. 

Like an idiot, he had the audacity to ask, “Did you like them?”

I wanted to tease, but I couldn’t come up with a suitable comeback. I melted at the thought of what he made for me, of the ring on my finger and the bracelets clicking on my wrist, of my Siphon against my throat, of my beautiful tiara on the crown of my head. 

“I love them, Tamlin.” I embraced him tightly. Feeling his arms around me made me sigh against his jawline. “You always make me the most beautiful things.”

“My best work has always been about you,” he told me with a chuckle. “It amazes me how everything else sells; I feel like what I make about you is the most beautiful.”

I kissed him and our whole world seemed to crumble around us. The cheerful music outside rang in some faraway land as did the chatter and the laughter. I could only see, hear, breathe, and feel Tamlin. He engulfed my senses. My gown was thrown over a chair along with his tunic and trousers, his boots kicked aside, my tiara placed carefully on the vanity. The Siphon on my chest pulsed with power every time his lips pressed against my skin and my bracelets clanked when I ran my fingers through his hair. 

We were one. High Lord and High Lady, husband and wife, mates. As we drifted into our world of bliss and passion, the vase of roses on the nightstand bloomed all night long, and for many nights to come. 

_ Fin. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all my readers for your continued support and kind words! It was a pleasure writing this fanfic and I loved to see others who also want Tamlin to have his own happy ending! I really hope Maas gives his character closure and gives him the help he needs. 
> 
> Thank you and stay safe!


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